


Dragon's Eye

by Phedoria



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Companions, F/M, Female Friendship, Fluff and Smut, Friendship, Multi, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Rape Recovery, Romantic Fluff, Skyrim Civil War, Skyrim Main Quest, Thieves Guild, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-11-25
Packaged: 2019-07-10 03:25:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 125
Words: 278,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15940817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phedoria/pseuds/Phedoria
Summary: Sura, a young Khajiit, has lived most of her life in Whiterun. Her past is a mystery to her. The only memory she holds is an old, worn out pendant. The biggest wish she has: to find out where she comes from and where she belongs.  She loves a Nord, a proud member of the Companions but is too shy and timid to confess her feelings to him. And then life takes a brutal turn and she begins to understand what's important and what's worth fighting for.Another Khajiit arrives in Whiterun, carrying a similar necklace. He seeks revenge but becomes a reluctant hero of the land.  A stubborn Nord woman is shoved into his life against his will. Lydia,  the niece of Jarl Balgruuf is placed as his housecarl.  They hate, they bicker, they argue. He is stubborn and often hateful, but she is persistent and patient and kind. And little by little, he begins to see her as a friend and maybe even something more.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone. This is a really, really long story so before you even dive into this, just beware! I wrote this story a long time ago, it is finished but now I just have to patient enough to upload it here. I chose pretty much "ignore" the main storyline because everyone who's ever played Skyrim knows it in and out. This story mainly focuses the relationships between the characters and in some parts I skip over some parts and I understand that might annoy some readers, but like I said, written long ago, re-edited multiple times, done and moved on. :)   
> I really do enjoy hearing everyone's opinions, the good and the bad as well, but unfortunately I don't have the time or the interest to start editing this all over again. On my second re-editing round, I already re-wrote huge chunks of the story and I've spent 4-6 years working on this so these characters and this story is important to me be but this is as final as it can be. :D 
> 
> Thank you for your interest and I hope you enjoy it nevertheless.

1.

The northern lights shone brightly above Whiterun, scattering colors of green, blue, and red across the sky. While the city and its people were fast asleep, she was afraid to close her eyes. What she could not remember with her waking eyes, always came to her in her dreams. And as the morning came and the sun's first rays hit Whiterun, as the stars faded and birds started singing behind her bedroom window, she lost everything she was trying so hard to reach in her dreams.

So she preferred not to sleep. To stay awake as long as she could.

In these lonely, silent nights, she tried to keep her mind on other things, but mostly she just wandered around the empty halls of the Dragonsreach. The guards didn't pay much attention to her, most of them just nodded politely as she passed by. Silently she walked down the stairs, paused to look around the large, wooden hall which was now empty. During the days, the longhouse was usually filled with people.

There was Irileth - who rarely smiled - standing next to the Jarl, keeping him safe from all the possible threats. The Dunmer took her job very seriously and she always checked every visitor personally, whether they were farmers outside of the city asking for help with wolves and bears, or some noble Thane from Solitude, bringing regards from the Empire and Jarl Elisif the Fair. Irileth never lets her guard down.

And to this day, Irileth still had suspicions about her.

Even though she had been living in Dragonsreach for years now, she could feel Irileth's eyes upon her, whenever she approached the Jarl or even said few words to him. But she couldn't blame her. Many people in Skyrim considered the Khajiit thieves and skooma-addicts, unreliable creatures with lots of problems. If this wasn't Whiterun, she wouldn't be allowed inside the city walls.

To her eyes, Jarl Balgruuf the Greater was a noble and a good man. But he was also one the most stubborn Nords she knew. Despite that, he always smiled at her, always asked how she was doing no matter how busy he seemed to be. Even when he was in the middle of a heated discussion with his steward, Proventus Avenicci, he usually had time to greet her and give her a warm, delightful smile.

The large hall was empty; she guessed that even Irileth had gone to bed as well. Her steps were quiet and muffled as she moved across the floor. For a moment she stopped beside the big fireplace, which still had glowing embers of burned wood. All the hundreds of fires that were burned in this pit had left their distinguishing marks on the hall. Most recognizable was the rather comforting and cozy smell of the smoke that embedded itself in the wooden walls and beams. Many people who lived inside the Dragonsreach didn't seem to notice it anymore; they were so accustomed to it. But she could always smell it and never grow tired of it.

It was the smell of home.

The warmth surrounded her and like so many times before, she felt safe and happy here. No danger could reach her inside these sturdy walls.

She wasn't born in the Dragonsreach, wasn't one of the Jarl's children. Would never be. She didn't really want to be. She knew she had a past. That she came from somewhere and at one point in her life, she had belonged to someone. She was the someone's daughter, maybe even a sister. Someone once said that she might have been abandoned, that her parents didn't really want her at all. She acknowledged it. That could very well be true. But the more she thought about it, less likely it seemed. She remembered very little if anything, but she could recall a sense of belonging.

Now she was part of Dragonsreach, a peculiar, strange part of it. She was here before Jarl Balgruuf's children were born and before his wife passed away. His genuine affection towards her didn't end when his children came to be. She sometimes spent time with them, taught them to read and write. But as they all grew older, they also grew tired of her, found new friends and new interests. She wasn't offended when they stopped spending time with her. She liked them a lot but preferred her own peace.

As she started to feel drowsy, she moved away from the fireplace. She blinked her eyes couple of times and walked slowly to the small room filled with soul gems, alchemy books, and other magical items. It was Farengar's workroom and his laboratory. She was always welcome here as well. Farengar was indeed one the first people that had made her feel like home inside this strange, huge fort. It was rather strange because the wizard was known for his short temper and abrupt, rude remarks. When he saw her for the first time, he didn't look at her like a little, weird, wild animal, instead, he had kneeled before her and smiled. To this day she didn't understand why and he never explained his actions or why he tolerated her and her endless questions and inquiries.

When she showed interest towards his work, rummaged through his old spell books and sank her tiny, sharp teeth in some of his ingredients, he took her as his apprentice. He was surprised to learn she had a basic understanding of magic, but he still had to spend days teaching her simple, plain things. She never complained though. She knew much of what he did and although there were times when the Jarl annoyed and irritated him with his mundane question, he was never too busy to tell her about his newest spells or what he was researching. He also questioned her and corrected her mistakes. He wanted her to know and remember all the different spells and their consequences. He always reminded her that magic was not a tool to be played with. You had to be responsible for your actions, know what you were doing. And under no circumstances did he allow her to hurt innocent people. That's why he had never agreed to teach destruction spells to her.

She sat in his work chair and leaned against his table. Her head felt heavy and she had trouble keeping her eyes open now. It could be so easy just to close her eyes and let the sleep take over, but fear kept her awake. She resisted. She knew the nightmares were somehow connected with her lost childhood. Many, many times she had tried to remember, force herself to remember, but the black, thick veil that covered her mind could not be lifted by force. She ran through countless, dark, dim hallways, bashed her head into locked doors that refused to open. Only in the night, during her deepest sleep, she was able to see.

To remember.

But as the dawn came and as she opened her eyes, everything was covered in darkness again. And all she felt was painful emptiness and longing. They all told her - the Jarl, Farengar, even her best friend Lydia - she didn't need to remember. Because this was her home. She would always be welcome here. She would always have friends and family here.

But she was no Nord and her difference made her want to seek out her origins. She wanted to find her real family if she still had any family left. The Jarl did something exceptional. He saw her desperation and sent some couriers to different holds of the land to ask around about her possible background, but again and again, they all returned without anything new to tell. After the third courier came back from Solitude as empty-handed as the others, she learned not to wait for their return.

Lydia asked around outside the city, from the traveling Khajiit caravans. The Jarl even suggested that they let them inside the city if they could tell them anything, but that caused Irileth to shout like a Greybeard. She was basically fuming as she explained that she didn't want him to spend his valuable time or the wealth that was meant for the citizens of Whiterun.

"But you are one of my citizens," he said and his voice was determinant. "And it is my duty to make sure that all who reside in Whiterun are well taken care of."

She felt Irileth's stern gaze upon her and she knew the Dunmer didn't approve the Jarls actions and didn't understand his weird affection towards her. All these years she always tried to avoid her. Irileth accused her of sneaking around the reach like a stalking predator. She was but a saber cat in Irileth's eyes. While she did have a habit of sticking to the shadows and be as quiet and unnoticeable as she could, she would never steal anything or hurt anyone in the Dragonsreach.

All these thoughts buzzed around in her tired head, fast like lighting while she tried and tried to understand and remember. Her distant past stayed hidden while the recent events were clear as day. And while she was buried inside her own head, she didn't hear soft steps behind her. When a warm hand touched her shoulder, she was startled, her heart bouncing, her ears flattened back against her head and she automatically drew her tail under the chair to avoid instant injury.

"Why are you still awake, Sura?" Farengar stood next to her. His voice was concerned but a bit irritated at the same time.

"I can't sleep," Sura answered and lowered her head. She felt a little guilty like she had just lied right to his face. But it was no lie, she literally couldn't sleep.

"You mean you don't want to sleep," he sighed and crossed his arms. He was wearing his dark blue wizard cloak and under the shadow of his hood, his face looked worried.

She nodded but didn't look up at him. His silent disappointment was enough. He needed her help tomorrow for some of his new experiments. She knew little of his current work, but the magic he was working on seemed very dangerous and volatile. And if she wasn't up to the task, if she wasn't sharp and well rested, if her memory didn't work like it usually did, she would not just disappoint him but put all of the other people around them at risk.

He shook his head and she saw some of the stiffness melt out of from his eyes. He sighed and slowly he walked to one of his cabinets, the one he always kept locked.

The storage for his most dangerous ingredients.

He went through some of the bottles, read carefully every marking and label and finally took out one brightly blue vial. He opened the cork and poured a small amount into a silver goblet.

"This is very powerful," he said and placed the goblet on the table in front of her. "But it will make sure that you sleep without dreams. This is the maximum amount you can take. If you drink more, you will die. So never, ever try to take it on your own. No matter how desperate the situation is. Do you understand?"

She nodded and reached out for the goblet. It shook in her hand; she hadn't known he had such strong potions in his possessions. But of course, he was the court wizard, he had to be prepared for everything. Be it good or bad.

"This is no potion," he said. She looked at him bewildered. It was like he heard her thoughts. "It is poison. It will overpower your brain. Cripple them, so they can't come up with any thoughts or memories or illusions. "

Again she looked up at him, now more scared of him than her nightly terrors. The goblet trembled against her lips and the sweet, empowering smell of the drink made her head spin.

"Don't be afraid," he smiled when he saw her hesitating. "You should be able to sleep soundly. Now, just drink it and then go to bed. Its effect is quite sudden."

Once more she looked into his eyes and saw no sign of lies. With one quick sip, she swallowed the liquid, placed the goblet back to the table and stood up. Farengar nodded, smiled and gently patted her shoulder.

She bid him good night, turned around and walked to her small bedroom. Since she usually worked in the alchemy laboratory with Farengar, the wizard and the Jarl had both agreed that it would be better if her room was near his workplace. So Farengar's bookshelves and his massive work table were moved and she made this small corner room her own.

She thought it was a good arrangement and she liked her room. She didn't have much, a small corner table with fresh flowers, a few candles and wall sconces, a little wardrobe with a couple of dresses and a tiny chest for her most important, personal things.

She changed her dress to a comfortable nightwear and lay upon her bed, pulling the warm, woolly covers over her. As the darkness started to creep over her and her vision began to blur, she realized in her foggy mind that there actually was one thing she could remember from her earlier dreams.

A growl - soft and gentle and low, not scary but comforting. And a rough patch of black fur under her small, tiny fingers.


	2. Chapter 2

2.

The day was as sunny and bright as it could be. The warm winds of the early spring swept over Whiterun and everyone seemed to be in a happy, joyful mood. Even the guards sometimes took off their suffocating helmets and raised the faces towards the light, eyes closed and a careful smile on their faces.

Sura looked over the city. She was at the Skyforge and her blue, bright eyes smiled as a flock of birds flew right over the Jorrvaskr, the great mead hall of the Companions. From the birds, her gaze moved down to the training area and she could see some of the Companions down in the yard, talking, laughing and testing their weapons and skills.

"Girl!" Eorlund Gray-Mane, Skyforge's blacksmith interrupted her thoughts. "Did you come here to work or to have fun? This steel is still not as thin as it should be."

"I'm sorry," Sura turned back to him. "But it's such a beautiful spring day. Did you see those birds, Eorlund?"

"The Companions need their weapons," he grunted. "I don't have time to watch birds. And neither do you. Keep forging, that sword still needs much work."

She smiled but did as she was told and kept shaping the hot steel with her hammer. She liked the physical work in the forge, but to this day she hadn't managed to make a sword or a shield that Eorlund would find satisfying. There always seemed to be something wrong, some crack or defect that he would notice. And he was always right. The swords she made and tested broke easily in the use of experienced warriors and the shield shattered way too soon under the huge pressure or war hammers and axes.

But still, she kept going, kept trying to be better. Like the court wizard Farengar, the Skyforge's smith Eorlund Gray-Mane was hard to please and demanded perfection. And still, both of these men were willing to teach her. When she wasn't learning magic from Farengar, she spent her days in Skyforge listening and looking at the best smith in all of Skyrim showed her what he did and how he did it.

Eorlund Gray-Mane was proud of his work and wasn't afraid to show it. But he was also very stiff and stern and didn't allow any fooling around. The Skyforge was a dangerous place with the hot, boiling forge and was filled with sharp steel weapons. He mostly nagged and complained to her. Always going on about how he shouldn't let her come to the Skyforge, that all she did was waste his precious materials, and that he was wasting his time teaching her because she wasn't able to make anything decent.

But Sura just smiled at his words. She knew it was part of his nature. Eorlund had never asked her to pay anything and he always had some steel ingots in storage if she wanted to try something other than swords or daggers. She would always remember the first time she saw the big, muscular man at his forge, long before his hair and beard had turned grey. She knew she wasn't meant to be a blacksmith, but she liked spending time with the old man. Sometimes, if she was very patient, he shared some old stories with her.

She relived the memories, and for a moment saw him like he was back then, agile and strong, quick and professional. He had perfected his skills, he never made a single useless move and his rough hands - which were filled with calluses, old wounds, and scars - caressed the steel softly and gently like it was his lover.

"Daydreams again?" Eorlund saw her looking at him and stood up from the grindstone where he had been sharpening a thin-bladed steel sword. He lifted it up to his eye-height, looked down the blade to see if it was curved or contorted. He touched the edge of the blade carefully, brought his thumb over it and the softest, slightest touch drew drops of blood from his finger. Satisfied at his work, he smiled.

Then he turned and handed the sword to her.

"This is what I accomplish," he said and now his voice was softer, deeper and gentler. As she took it, she couldn't but marvel at the lightness of the blade and the force of the weapon. It felt like it pulsated in her arms, like it had the mind of its own, ready to strike down anyone who would dare to threaten her.

"Take it to him," Eorlund commanded.

Him? Sura blinked her eyes. Surely he didn't mean...

"You know who's sword that is," Eorlund grunted. "He's down in the training yard. I promised to have it done by today. And take the rest of the afternoon off. I need to clean this mess you made."

"Are you kicking me out?" Sura was astonished. That was extremely strange. Eorlund never cut the days short and sometimes he even kept her at the forge late until the evening.

"For the afternoon, I am," Eorlund nodded. "Now get going."

As she walked down the stone stairs of the Skyforge, the older man looked after her. He had given her the sword for a reason. The cat and mouse play in Jorrvaskr's hallways had been going on for far too long. Years, in fact. He wasn't about to play the goddess of love, but he still remembered the time when he and his wife were young and in love and the memory warmed his heart. If things were up to those two - the shy little cat girl and the smart but way too honorable warrior - nothing would happen, until they were both old and grey and ready to fall into their graves. He chuckled to himself and grabbed the sword she had been working on. Well, he thought and was quite impressed by her work. Maybe she isn't as hopeless as I imagined.

Sura was nervous. She was always nervous when had to deal with him. Never mind what it was about, his closeness made her uncomfortable. The main reason was his eyes. They were grey and seemed cold and unfeeling, but she had seen a flash of fire and passion underneath his carefully constructed shell. His eyes were the most spectacular part of him. She mostly shied away from his gaze but when he wasn't looking, she sometimes stared at him and just admired him.

Now she stood the sword in her hands, grasping it so hard that she felt her own claws dig into her palms. She bit her lower lip, frowned and reminded herself that this was nothing compared to her nightmares. Why was she so nervous? This wasn't the first time she laid her eyes on him, it wasn't the first time they exchanged words. She drew a deep breath and walked slowly to the training yard where the two brothers were clashing their swords. She stopped on her tracks when she noticed that neither of them had any cover or armor over their upper bodies.

She could smell their sweat; it glistened on their skins, and hear the voices of their heavy breathing. The sun drifted behind the thick clouds and a cold wind swept across the yard. The two men didn't seem to notice the change in the weather.

And neither did she. She was only wearing her blacksmith's apron and a thin, woolly dress. Her fur kept her warm but suddenly cold shivers ran down her spine. She wasn't trembling because of the coldness. As she looked at them - at him - a strange warmness spread throughout her body. Her heart began to beat faster and she didn't notice how her tail moved nervously from left to right, again and again.

For a moment, it looked like the taller, stronger, bulkier man was winning. He laughed at his brother and the sound echoed throughout the yard. It was deep and warm and filled with affection. He swung his sword around, took a few steps towards the other man and charged forward. But where he was incredibly strong and powerful, his brother was quick and agile. All he had to do was take one, small step aside and the charging bear lost his balance. At the last moment, he tried to correct his move, but it was already too late. He crashed into the ground, his sword flew away from him and he was too tired to get up and continue the battle. His brother walked to him, reached out his arm and pulled him on his feet.

"You need to think before you charge, Farkas," he said to his brother.

"You know me," Farkas laughed. "I never use my brain when I fight."

"And that's why you can never beat me," Vilkas smiled, shook his head, walked to the stone wall that circled the yard, grabbed a soft cloth and wiped the sweat from his forehead and chest. He grinned to his twin brother and only he noticed the woman standing across the yard, squeezing a huge sword in her hands.

Farkas said something to him, but he had no idea what he was talking about. His blood still ran high because of the battle but her presence excited him in a different way. Farkas' words didn't reach his ears, all he heard was some distant mumbling that drifted through his brain like the background music at the tavern.

Countless times he had seen her but it always affected him like this was the first time. Her fur was as white as the winter snow in the mountains. Only a few dark stripes dotted it - two on the tail and one above her right ear. Once again he wondered where those stripes ended. He wanted to follow them with his finger. Trace them and find out how far they continued. Were they just a bunch random curves and whirls, or did they form any noticeable patterns? Her eyes captured his gaze and he simply couldn't break away. They were the bright, cool shade of blue. Like the mountain streams that poured down to the valleys below. Like the sky high above Skyrim, they were wild and untamed.

Farkas noticed that his brother wasn't listening to him. He followed his gaze and as he saw the woman, he shook his head, rolled his eyes, and a knowing smile rose on his face.

"Hey, kitty cat!" he yelled at her and waved his hand. "What do you intend to do with that big sword? Have you finally come to cut my poor brother's heart out and claim it for yourself? It's about time!"

Sura couldn't help but giggle at his remark. Vilkas nudged his brother with his elbow and frowned. Farkas just laughed, he never stopped teasing her and he sometimes called her a "kitty cat". It was a pet name, not an insult, there was nothing offensive in the way he said it and she quite liked it. Suddenly the mood in the training yard was much lighter, her hard grip of the sword loosened and she walked to them. She greeted them both and her sparkling eyes gleamed with laughter. She handed the sword to Vilkas.

"Eorlund sent this," she said. "I believe it's your new sword."

"Looks sturdy," Farkas said and before Vilkas had the chance to even hold the blade Farkas grabbed it from Sura and smiled to his brother.

"Let me test it out for you."

He turned his back on them and charged against the training dummies. It wasn't long until another man joined him and they continued their sparring together.

An awkward silence fell between the Nord and the Khajiit. They suddenly noticed that no one paid attention to them and they had a chance to talk if they wished to. At first, Sura was looking down at her own feet but as she lifted her gaze, his eyes darted somewhere else and neither knew what exactly to say. She could smell his skin, the sweat, and the leather and feel the warmth that was radiating from his bare chest. If she would just lean a little closer, she could almost touch him.

Vilkas cursed silently. Why was this woman so close to him and still so far away? He had watched her as the years passed by, as she grew from a little, lost girl to a beautiful, grown woman. She started to work in Skyforge with Eorlund - which was unheard of, Eorlund never took an apprentice, and still, there she was, day after day, from early morning until late in the evening. So close to him that he could smell her, the faint scent of lavender and tundra cotton. Whenever she was there, he couldn't concentrate on anything so he usually kept to himself, delved into books or went to an occasional mission or two. He went anywhere, did anything so he could avoid her presence. Anything, except face her because of moments like this when he felt like mumbling idiot with nothing interesting or intelligent to say. But today, it seemed that some higher power led her here, right next to him.

Sura felt him shift on his feet and all of a sudden she was afraid that he might leave. She quickly raised her eyes to look at him, to ask him not to go. Momentarily she wondered where such courage came from, she was usually so nervous and edgy around him. A silent whisper or more like a warm gust of wind pushed her little closer to him and she was relieved to see that he wasn't leaving. He was still there and now her eyes locked into his. She had never seen them so close. The dark war paint made his grey gaze deep and intense. There was something he wanted to tell her, something that words were not able to convey. And she could almost read that something from his gaze. She knew she could if this moment just lasted a little longer if she had a little more time to look deep into his eyes.

He could have dived into those beautiful, blue eyes and died happily. Absentmindedly he raised his hand and touched her cheek. It was unexpected and sudden, but she couldn't help but smile at him and without even knowing it, she leaned a little closer.

And as he lowered his head to maybe kiss her, maybe to say something whisper, maybe even to just hug her, she could almost block out the bad memories, the nightmares and even the familiar footsteps that were on their way to disrupt this strange, rare moment.


	3. Chapter 3

3.

Like their magical, strange moment, Lydia's timing was also perfect that day, only she wasn't aware of it. She rushed from behind the corner, not exactly running but marching very, very fast. The gravel and dead leaves rustled under her boots and she barged into the backyard of Jorrvaskr humming an old tavern tune. Her joyful, too happy and out of tune interpretation of "Ragnar the Red" caused Sura and Vilkas to jump and step further away from each other.

When Lydia saw them, her smile widened and she greeted them both enthusiastically. She barely even noticed the awkwardness between them and when she turned towards her friend, Vilkas rolled his eyes, said his goodbyes and turned to leave. Momentarily Sura stared at his back and thought what would have happened if Lydia didn't arrive right at this moment. Then she pushed the hopeless dream somewhere in the back of her mind and turned to her friend.

Lydia had spent the entire afternoon looking for Sura. She scoured the Market and there she ran into Arcadia. The alchemy shop owner asked her to deliver a message to Sura. Something about new ingredients that she needed. Sura often headed to the plains of Whiterun to get some flowers, mushrooms, and insects to Arcadia. On most days Lydia followed her. To protect her and to talk to her.

She headed towards Dragonsreach and the court wizard Farengar waved her off and mentioned Skyforge. She could tell that Farengar was not all that pleased to have her wizard apprentice work with the rough and stern smith but he didn't really have any reason to stop her either. She was about to go up to the Skyforge, but from afar she saw only the old, cranky Eorlund Grey-Mane up there and decided to walk through the training yard, avoid him and maybe challenge Farkas for a sparring session later in the day.

And here she was now, in the backyard of the old mead hall. There was a time in her life when she dreamed of joining them, but then her father insisted that she should train with the guards and so her dream was forgotten. Being a Companion wasn't a realistic dream anymore but she still enjoyed visiting Jorrvaskr.

But when she finally found Sura, the idea of sword training escaped her mind and she remembered why she was looking for her. She needed to talk to her about men. And not just about any, random man out there, but the one, certain man her father wanted her to marry. Once again she wasn't sure was she making the right decision. In Skyrim, love wasn't in high demand and it was certainly not something she associated with marriage.

Lydia grabbed her arm and smiled at Sura. The tall, dark-haired Nord had an odd feeling like she stepped onto someone's toes, and as they left Jorrvaskr, the feeling lingered. Sura smiled at her and asked what was going on. At first, Lydia didn't answer. She saw sadness somewhere under her bright smile, mournful acceptance in her eyes. She wasn't sure what happened, she certainly hadn't seen anything, but that uncomfortable notion remained. That she had interrupted something. She asked if everything was alright and Sura waved her hand and kept smiling. Lydia understood. She would share her feelings if she wanted to.

"You were looking for me?" Sura asked as they headed towards the Market.

"Oh yes," Lydia nodded. "I almost forgot. Arcadia asked you to stop by, something about the new ingredient and some extraordinary potion she was making. I also talked to Adrianne. Your leather armor with the pants and the cuirass is ready."

"Well, let's stop by at Arcadia's at first," Sura replied. "If she needs something from the plains, I can also test out the new armor. Not that I need it. You are always there to make sure I'm safe."

A cheerful chatter followed them as they crossed the Market. Almost instinctively they both stopped at Fralia's jewelry stand and looked at the beautiful silver necklaces and rings. They never had any gold to buy such things but sometimes Fralia allowed them to try them on. Lydia always thought that the sparkling sapphire necklace was perfect for Sura because it matched her gorgeous eyes so well. Fralia agreed and promised to keep the sapphire necklace safe until she was able to buy it herself.

Sura just laughed at Lydia's words. She did like the necklace but she usually wore her old gold pendant. Shaped like a crescent moon, dim and worn, but it had been with her as long as she could remember. It felt comfortable around her neck and she refused to take it off for more than a few seconds. Without it, she felt naked and unprotected. It was the last clue she had of her lost childhood. If she would lose it, even the slightest hope would be gone. So she guarded and protected it, always making sure she didn't drop it or misplace it.

"Oh, Sura and Lydia," Arcadia greeted as they stepped inside her small alchemy shop. "Nice to see you both."

"I heard you wanted some new ingredients from the plains," Sura looked around. "But it seems your storage is quite full. What do you need?"

"I'm sorry to bother you with such a small errand," Arcadia looked genuinely regretful. "You see, I have this new potion I'm trying to make. I got the recipe from Solitude only late last night but it contains so many different items. I have most of them here, but I'm missing some. I would go and get them myself but I can't afford to close the shop in the middle of the day and well...you both know how dangerous it's out there after dark."

"Don't worry," Sura assured her. "We'll get them for you."

"Thank you so much," Arcadia smiled and began to list down her missing ingredients.

Lydia shook her head and once again marveled at Sura's memory. She didn't need a written list to remember Arcadia's ingredients. The Imperial woman mentioned a dozen different flowers and insects and by the time they made their way towards the Warmaiden's, Lydia had already forgotten most of them. But she knew Sura wouldn't forget. Her memory was unmatched; she could remember everything - except her lost childhood.

Adrianne was out at her forge when they approached her. She was a blond Nord woman, strong and proud and very serious-minded. She rarely smiled. She was always obsessed with swords and axes, made new ones and tried hard to perfect her skills. Lydia heard that Adrianne's husband sometimes complained about his wife's great interest in weapons and armors. To her, it was a clear sign. The poor man didn't get enough attention in the bedroom.

Despite her lack of interest in anything but weaponry, she greeted them rather warmly. She invited them into her little shop and offered Sura some privacy in the back room while she tried her new leather armor. The armor and the cuirass were surprisingly light and easy to wear. She could flex herself and bend down without many difficulties. The armor was dark brown and the leather was molded soft and resilient. The boots that went along with the armor were also very comfortable, light and easy to move in. They didn't scratch or chafe her legs and the armor felt like a second skin.

She paid gladly the agreed amount of gold. Adrianne promised that if she ever needed her armor repaired or refitted, she would do it at a fair price. Now ready to go, they walked out the door and it was like the spring had suddenly returned. The sun was once again shining upon them and the cold wind was but a distant memory.


	4. Chapter 4

4.

They walked passed the city gate and towards the Whiterun stables and Sura glanced at her friend. There was something bothering Lydia, and she could feel it, but she didn't exactly know how to start questioning her. Finally, as they passed the stables, she opened her mouth.

"I hear things are nearly settled between you and Hadvar," she began but was interrupted by a heavy sigh from Lydia. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replied. "I'm perfectly content. Just ask my father."

"I thought it was you who is marrying Hadvar, not your father," Sura pointed out and Lydia smiled a little.

"It's not Hadvar," Lydia shook her head and looked at Sura when she bent down to pick some tundra cotton in her basket. "I'm sure he will make a perfect husband. After all, he is kind and patient and handsome and...and...boring," Lydia yawned.

"How is he boring?" Sura scanned her surroundings and headed towards a large tree stump to gather some mushrooms. "He's a soldier after all. And a Nord."

"Yes, he is," Lydia agreed. "But with those Nordic roots of his, he wishes me to stay at our house in Solitude. Taking care of the place, cooking for him, cleaning, looking after the kids."

Sura frowned. "There are plenty of women who are part of Legion. If you want adventure, why don't you join? Surely he doesn't want you to just remain in Solitude.

The thought of Lydia leaving Whiterun pained Sura's heart. She was sorry to see her friend go. In Whiterun, Lydia was basically the only one who accompanied her to the plains, who she could talk and laugh with. She was practically the older sister she never had.

"Oh no," Lydia shook her head. "He told me that he doesn't wish his wife to see the horrors and the gore of the battlefields. So we both know what that means. I am to become a boring housewife."

Lydia rarely wore anything other than her steel armor. Seeing her in a fancy dress, her hair braided neatly down her back made Sura smile. It was a reassuring image, but not very Lydia-like, she admitted.

"Is this why I trained for years? Why did I learn to fight and kill? For this?" Lydia sat down on a small rock. She sighed and rubbed her face. Whiterun looked so beautiful and she already felt a little homesick.

"When are you two heading towards Riften?" Sura sat down beside her. She had gathered most of Arcadia's ingredients, few were still missing. But the afternoon was beautiful and warm and she felt like they didn't have to rush. Her friend needed to talk and she was here, ready to listen.

"I don't know exactly," Lydia looked in the distance. "It seems that things are now quite flammable, with the civil war and all. The last time I heard from Hadvar, he was somewhere near the Darkwater Crossing, said that there was bound to be some Stormcloack activity. But it's been a while. I really don't know where he is now."

"I'm sure he is alright," Sura said when she sensed worry in Lydia's voice.

"I do care for him," Lydia confessed and looked at her. "And I have nothing against marrying him. Like I said, he's quite boring but maybe I'll get used to it. Even enjoy it a little. You will attend our wedding, won't you?"

"Of course I will," Sura smiled. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Her smile seemed to calm her friend down and they sat quietly for a moment, only listening to the distant voices of the city, the birds chirping in the forest, and the wind that swept down the mountainside. Lydia was going to marry someone, she thought. Even when it was not out of love, her friend found her other half. Lydia would not spend her remaining days alone. But she would remain in Whiterun, creep silently up and down and empty halls of Dragonsreach in the late hours of the morning. Trying to remember who she was and trying to dream up the person who she one day would be. The image was no very alluring or flattering. It almost brought tears to her eyes and she raised her gaze, blinked and looked at the mighty city in the center of the plains. Her voice was weaker and tenuous when she talked again.

"Don't you wish to find love?" she finally asked Lydia. "The person you marry and spend your life with, shouldn't you be able to love him?"

"Love?" Lydia asked and there was honest confusion in her voice.

"Yes, we worship Goddess Mara as one of our Divines," Sura continued. "Why do we still so rarely search for her blessings? Why do we settle for someone who we only find moderately pleasing? If you do not love Hadvar if you see him only as a childhood friend, should you really marry him?"

"I'm not some young maiden anymore," Lydia reminded her. "If I keep waiting for someone to love, I might end up marrying some old, drunk innkeeper."

"But you want adventure," Sura sighed. "Why choose to marry if the only thing you can expect is a boring life as a housewife?"

"I want adventure, I do," Lydia admitted. "But nobody is young forever. We grow older. I think it's better to marry now, have a steady home and a place to go, a place to belong to…"

"But you already belong to Dragonsreach!" Sura interrupted her. "The Jarl is your uncle! You always have a place there."

"True," Lydia nodded. "But the Dragonsreach is the Jarl's home. It's my father's home. And my father wishes me to marry Hadvar. He promised it to my mother before she passed away. And I think he worries about me."

"You're marrying Hadvar only because your father wishes it," Sura glanced at her.

Lydia didn't reply, but they both knew that was ultimately true. Lydia was a rational woman; she wanted to listen to her head rather than her heart. But she understood that Sura was different. Her friend wanted to let her feelings guide her. She believed that eventually, her feelings would lead her to her real family. She was sure she would recognize her family, her parents and sisters, and brothers if she one day would meet them. Her heart would recognize them, not her brain. There were times when Lydia worried that Sura's heart would lead her to a bad place. And she was even more worried when she realized she could not always be here to protect her friend.

"Do we have all the ingredients?" Lydia finally broke the silence.

"Almost," Sura nodded. "We best stay clear of the giant camps, they might get nervous if we get too close. We still need some glowing mushrooms but we can't find those from the plains. And the caves are quite dangerous."

"You're right," Lydia pulled out her sword and stroke the steel with her hand. "Two helpless women like us. How could we possibly defend ourselves? We are meant to be housewives, right?"

"There are some pretty dangerous creatures living in the caves," Sura reminded her. "Spiders, bears, even saber cats. And let's not forget the wolves."

"Don't forget the trolls," Lydia added casually. "My sword would be too slow to beat down a troll but your destruction spell would burn one to a crisp in moments."

Sura raids her eyebrows. Lydia actually knew some of her most guarded secrets. Farengar would have skinned her alive if he knew that she had learned destruction spells behind his back. All he wanted her to learn was calming and healing and clairvoyance.

"You are not as secretive as you think, my friend," Lydia nudged her and laughed.

"Apparently not," Sura admitted.

"I know that you can actually conjure a flame atronach," Lydia continued and her eyes gleamed with amazement. "That's something not everyone can do."

"I wonder how you find out these things," Sura growled but Lydia could clearly see that she wasn't really angry.

"So, with your flame spells, my sword and with a possible flame atronach at our side, would you be interested to get those mushrooms for Arcadia?" Lydia tempted.

"That might be the last adventure you and I can enjoy together," Sura smiled at her and stood up. "Let's go, oh brave Sword-Maiden. Lead us to our next destination."


	5. Chapter 5

5.

The first cave they came upon was a shallow, deep cut straight into the mountain. They could still see Whiterun behind them and one of the watchtowers so if things turned out really bad, they figured they could just run out and head towards the towers. Lydia pulled out her sword and placed her iron shield ahead of her.

"Stay behind me," she said to Sura. "And if you need to use your spells, warn me before, so I don't get caught in the crossfire."

"Understood," Sura said as she nodded.

Light began to fade as they entered. They could hear running water from somewhere ahead and soon the rock under their feet turned wet and slippery. The walls were covered with thick and moist moss and they stopped for a moment to gather some. Sura figured she could use it with some of her own experiments.

After a while the tunnel widened, got lighter, and they could now see a little better. They glanced at each other when they heard voices coming from deeper in the cave. As quiet as they could they snuck forward and crouched behind a huge boulder that leaned over the ledge. In front of them, the cave broadened, and they could see several people talking, drinking and laughing.

"Bandits," Lydia whispered. "There is no way we can take them all. And there are bound to be more of them deeper in the cave."

"What are they doing here?" Sura wondered aloud.

"Most of them are fugitives from the Imperial army and even from the Stormcloacks," Lydia hissed. "Even when they join voluntarily, the strenuous training and the harsh conditions are hard to bear. So they turn and run. And with nowhere to go, they join forces and attack travelers and caravans, even kill and kidnap people sometimes."

"Should we head back?" Sura murmured. "There are too many for us."

"You're right," Lydia nodded. "Better not risk it."

They turned and as they crept up the tunnel, small rocks cracked under their feet and rolled downhill. Immediately the light chatter down in the cave ended and they glanced at each other, hearts pounding.

"Who's there?" a stern voice called out. Sura heard the metallic sound as he sheathed his sword. Lydia readied her weapon and clasped her shield tighter in her hand. If things turned out bad, Lydia would need all the help she could get. There was no time to think. She closed her eyes and like Farengar had thought her, cleared her mind to summon the purest and the cleanest energy in her body. She hadn't used the fire spell very often but she knew that it required much more energy and concentration than healing or clairvoyance.

Lydia leaped out from her hiding place. She was as quick, she knew how to use her sword, and before anyone could react, a severed head rolled to the ground. Lydia didn't notice the blood that covered her armor, not even when it splattered to her face. In the dim light, she looked scary and terrifying, as her dark hair covered most of her face and her green eyes glinted with adrenaline. She yelled out a battle cry and jumped over the ledge in the middle of the bandit rabble. Without hesitation, she attacked and dodged, always keeping her eyes on the enemy and never turning her back to any of them.

Sura jumped on to the rock. Her friend was surrounded by five or six men, she already killed three by the time Sura managed to gather the energy she needed. She yelled out a warning, Lydia nodded and leaped out of the way as she unleashed a powerful and destructive fire burst from her hands. It was so powerful that it knocked her over and she toppled backward like a dried, dead leaf in the autumn wind. She was astonished, terrified and in mere moments the men were engulfed by the flames. They were now screaming and crying as their skin and hair burned away. The smell of the burning flesh filled the air and Sura turned away from the horrible sight. Now she understood why Farengar never wanted her to learn destruction spells.

Silence fell into the cave. The only sounds they could hear was the booming echo of the distant water and the simmering hiss of the fat from the scorched bodies. Lydia sheathed her sword and squeezed her shield in her other hand hoping that it would stop trembling. Nothing had prepared her for the powerful magic that her friend wielded. She looked up and saw Sura climbing back to the rock. She looked shocked and confused. She hid her hands behind her back like she wanted to make sure that she wouldn't accidentally hurt her friend. Like she wasn't in control of the magic she possessed.

Lydia walked up to her and took her hands into hers. She tried to calm her down with a smile and for a moment they stood there, just contemplating what they had done.

"Quite an adventure this turned out to be," Lydia huffed. "I'm glad you didn't conjure that flame atronach as well."

"Same here," Sura nodded and shook her head. "Aren't we murderers now?"

"They were bandits," Lydia said. "Fugitives and thieves. I'm quite sure no one will miss them."

"We better not tell anyone about this," Sura said. "The Jarl will skin me and Farengar will gladly sleep on my fur for the rest of his days if he finds out about this."

"Very true," Lydia laughed and was amazed to hear her own, happy voice. Was she really able to laugh? Watching the burning men roll in their agony, she had been sure no laughter would escape her lips ever again.

"Did you see any mushrooms?" Sura asked as she jumped off the rock. It sounded incredibly stupid and an inappropriate question considering the situation but she wanted to concentrate on something else entirely. Anything that would distract her from of the burned people lying on the ground. The people who died by her hand.

"I thought I saw some near the back wall," Lydia pointed and as Sura ran to pick the mushrooms. In the meantime, Lydia searched the tables and the bookshelves and the chests that were scattered around the cave. "Damn it," she hissed as the biggest, wooden chest was locked.

"Here, let me try it," Sura offered, set her basket on the floor, pulled out a small knife and cranked the lock back and forth a few times. A satisfying click made her smile and she could hardly believe her own audacity. Here she was robbing the corpses of the people she had just killed.

"Oh, my Khajiit friend," Lydia grinned. "Now you even know how to pick locks."

She didn't answer because she didn't know how to defend herself. For years she had tried to convince Irileth to believe that she wasn't a thief or a murderer. And now she ended up being both.

"Well, not much of a treasure," Lydia sighed as they started at a pile of dirty, worn clothes, old boots, and fluffy hats. "Why did they even bother to lock this?"

"There could be something among them," Sura said and started to rummage through the clothes. Soon, a bright smile rose to her face as she felt something hard against her hand. Two small gemstones sparkled on her palm. They looked at them excited, then at each other and at the same time they both burst out laughing like little girls that shared some precious, important secret.

"You take the sapphire," Lydia breathed. "Blue goes better with your eyes."

"I knew you would say that," Sura replied. "And I know you like emeralds anyway."

"Let's keep these as memories," Lydia lifted the gem up, against the light and looked through it. "From this adventure. Years later, when I'm married and living in Solitude, all I need to do is look at this stone and it will remind me of our friendship."

Sura heard the sadness in her voice and for the first time, she understood clearly that Lydia didn't want to be married. It wasn't Hadvar like she said. But the idea of the marriage, to be bound to somewhere, to someone, the boring life as a housewife - that got to her. That frightened her. But her father - the Jarl's younger brother Hrongar - was a determined man and Lydia never disobeyed him. Sura was sure that Hrongar didn't know his daughter's true feelings.

"We better move on," Lydia said finally and she looked at Sura's basket. "Do you have everything now?"

She nodded. The back wall of the cave was filled with glowing mushrooms and the ground was fertile and had more than one cluster of Bleeding Crown's. She had also picked the ground bare, grabbed all the mushrooms she could find, no matter the sort.

"Are we going back the same way?" Sura asked. "The tunnel seems to continue. It goes upwards so the other end of the cave might be somewhere higher."

"What we do have to lose?" Lydia said, tucked the emerald somewhere under her amour and pulled her sword out again. She looked up at the narrow cavern and turned at Sura who picked up her basket and dropped the sapphire among the flowers and mushrooms. "You better stay behind me again. The tunnel is quite narrow. And…ah… don't use the flame spells this time."

"Don't worry," Sura smiled. "I don't even have enough power now to bring up another burst. We are fully dependent on your sword now."

"As long you stay behind me, there's nothing I can't handle," Lydia assured her. "Let's go then."

They entered the narrow path that leads upwards. It seemed to circle around the small stream that was running inside the mountain. The stone walls were filled with cracks and the water pushed its way through the rock and into the tunnel, making the path even more slippery and dangerous. At some points, the ceiling was incredibly low and they had to crouch to be able to move forward.

After some time the sound of water became louder and they could see some light at the end of the tunnel. They both breathed deeply as they emerged from the small passage right next to a roaring waterfall that plummeted down the mountainside. They looked around, blinking their eyes in bright light. The ground was far below them and they could see across the Whiterun plains. From the wide stone ledge, they still saw the shape of the Dragonsreach, its high towers, and sturdy walls but the city of Whiterun was mostly obscured by the towering, snowy mountainside. Below them, little to the right, down by the river, was a small village that consisted of a couple of wooden houses, a sawmill, and an inn.

"Riverwood," Lydia said. "So we didn't end up that far after all."

"Isn't Hadvar from Riverwood?" Sura asked. "His uncle lives there, right?"

"Yes, he's the smith," Lydia nodded and grinned. "A nice man. If I wasn't marrying Hadvar, I might marry him instead."

"You must be joking," Sura laughed. "Isn't he already married?"

"Yes, and his wife is incredibly jealous," Lydia said. "She always looks at me angrily and keeps telling me to stay away from her husband. Like I would actually dare to make a move towards him."

"Then you have no chances with him," Sura stated with a light laugh. "You are going to have to settle for his nephew."

They looked around for an easy way to get to the ground level. They saw the rocky road underneath, but just ahead of them was a vertical cliff wall, they wouldn't be able to get down safely that way. The ledge arched slightly downwards in the right side and after they had checked all the other possibilities they decided it was the safest way to go. Lydia offered to go first. She didn't have the chance to test their option when a massive roar shook the earth and the ground.

Shocked they looked at each other. Neither of them had ever heard anything like it, such a powerful, such a terrifying, bone-shattering sound. The echo of the roar traveled right through their bodies. It made them both tremble with fear.

"What was that?" Lydia whispered and grabbed Sura's hand.

"I don't know," she answered. "And where did it come from?"

They raised their eyes to the sky, it was clear and blue. The forest around them suddenly grew eerily quiet. They didn't hear the birds or the crickets. It seemed that even the wind quieted down. The loud drumming of the waterfall was the only voice they heard. And when the roar came the second time, they clung to each other to safety and comfort and stepped back, behind the shadows of the fall. Whatever it was, they wished it wouldn't be able to find them.

"Look," Lydia pointed to the distance. "Something is burning over there. Behind Riverwood."

"What is going on?" Sura wondered. "Isn't there one of those Imperial fortresses?"

Something blotted out the sun. They raised their eyes to see what had caused the sudden darkness. Above the forest, a massive lizard-like creature was gliding in the air. All they could do was stare at the black figure swooped down, disappeared for a moment and then came back up. They could hear the voice its wings made, they saw the flames it breathed, and how it rained destruction and death upon the already burning fortress.

"W-What…" Lydia stuttered. "What is that thing?"

"It's no bird, that's for sure," Sura mumbled. "Could it be... a dragon?"

"A dragon? There haven't been dragons in Skyrim for hundreds of years. It can't be!" Lydia rubbed her eyes.

"Well, what is it then? Sura yelled. "It's burning down the fortress right before our eyes."

"We...we need to get back to Whiterun!" Lydia decided. "The Jarl needs to know about this. If that...thing...attacks the city, who knows how many people will die!"


	6. Chapter 6

6.

Vilkas was incredibly annoyed. He had been annoyed ever since Lydia the "Sword-Maiden" made her sudden and inappropriate appearance in the training yard of Jorrvaskr. Vilkas didn't hate Lydia, he liked the spunky girl. When Farkas and she clashed in one of their never-ending sparring sessions, he always cheered for her. He cheered, even more, when she won. He even admired her when she turned down his resilient brother, the unbeatable, energetic stallion of Whiterun. But there were times, like today, when she could be rather irritating.

For the first time in years, he somehow found the courage to get closer to the woman of his dreams. Somehow he always assumed that she wouldn't be interested in him. And the sudden realization that she could be might end the torture he had been enduring for years.

He knew his friends sometimes jeered at him. Most of the Companions knew about his prolonged affection towards the Khajiit woman. He didn't mind their playful teasing, as long as it remained inside certain boundaries.

Today he wore his wolf armor, like any other day, and as he walked from the mead hall to the Market, he could feel people's eyes upon him. In Whiterun hold, he never received disregard or ignorance. He always tried his best to uphold the clear image and the honor of the Companions. And from their gazes, he knew they respected him and the beliefs he upheld.

Because of that honor and courage, more than one woman in Whiterun tried to impose their daughters to him over the years. And it was not always just the mothers. Most women, Nords, Bretons, Imperials, even some elves, became bolder in their advances. And as time passed, he got a certain reputation when it came to women. He was handsome, he was attractive, but he could also be brutally cold and insensitive. Most women gave up after the first try and went to his brother instead.

Farkas happily accepted the company of the lovely ladies his brother turned down. The more the merrier. Vilkas remembered many nights when Farkas went to the Bannered Mare to spend the evening with Torvar and Skjor. None of the three men came back alone if they came back at all. Kodlak Whitemane didn't approve half-naked women walking back and forth in the halls of Jorrvaskr, so they usually had their pleasures at the Inn. The innkeeper, Hulda, gained lots of gold from the Companions. The harder the missions, the more fun they seemed to need after they came back. And Hulda always welcomed them with warm, clean beds and lots of ale and mead in her cabinets. If there weren't many women, there at least had to be some mead. Women knew Farkas as the stud, the man who never ran out of stamina and could always please another woman only moments after the previous one got out the door.

Vilkas was another story. He was a man who only wanted one woman. In his youth, he had, of course, experienced many different embraces of many different women, but as he grew older his mind turned to the one woman, to the one person he never thought he could have.

Until this afternoon.

He fingers still remembered the soft fur and the excruciatingly intoxicating smell of lavender and tundra cotton still lingered around him. He thought he could smell it wherever he went. That was, of course, impossible, he knew it and his rational mind knew it. He tried to keep his mind clear of her and so he wandered into Belethor's General Goods.

Belethor usually had new and interesting books for sale that he hadn't read before. That was another thing the Companions sometimes pestered him about. The brains of the Ysgramor, indeed. Despite the teasing, he was ready to fill his lonely evenings with books, one story after another until he was so tired he fell asleep with the book on his face. If he didn't read, his mind would wander off, somewhere in the quiet halls of the Dragonsreach.

"Well, well, if it isn't it one of the Companions?" Belethor greeted him as he entered. "What can I do for you today?"

"Just looking for some light reading," Vilkas replied.

"There is something in the back that I've been saving for you," Belethor said with a smile. "Hold on, I'll get it."

He disappeared in the backroom and Vilkas turned his attention to the shelves and boxes, which were filled with all kinds of stuff, from fox pelts to goat horns. Belethor sold some weapons and Vilkas took a closer look at the iron swords that were placed in the weapon racks against the wall. The man rarely had anything good, but it was interesting to see what he obtained from his journeys to the other cities.

"Here we go," Belethor marched from the back room and blew a thin layer of dust from an old, weathered book. It was covered by the black leather cover but nothing really indicated what the book was about. "I think it's one of those…what you call them..? Where people write down their life stories?"

"A memoir?" Vilkas asked. Truth be told, he wasn't that interested in old journals but he wasn't that picky when it came to reading.

"Yes, one of those," Belethor smiled. "I read a couple of pages. The writer seems to be a wizard of some sort. Not an elf. A cat!"

"A cat?" Vilkas replied with a frown.

"You know," Belethor said. "A Khajiit, one of those skooma addicts. Probably wrote this while drinking down a bottle or two. I heard that stuff gives you some great visions."

"Skooma addicts?" Vilkas snarled. "Not all of them are like that."

"Ah yes", Belethor smirked. "We do have one such lady living in Whiterun. Quite different from the rest of them. She's rather pretty, don't you think? A bit too shy for my liking, but…"

Vilkas lifted his eyes and his grey, stern gaze made the vendor clear his throat. His words faded, his grin disappeared and he took an old rag underneath his counter and began to wipe it. Like cleaning it was something he totally forgot to do. He didn't really understand the sudden silence. It's not like he said something wrong. Everyone is Skyrim knew the cats loved their skooma and moon sugar. True, the shy little Khajiit girl seemed different, but he barely knew her.

"Interesting," Vilkas took the book and browsed it. He was able to open only the first couple of pages. It seemed the rest of the book was covered in some soggy substance.

"Oh..I think I…accidentally poured some mead on it," Belethor looked at him apologetically. "The pages might be a bit…sticky."

"Where did you get this?" Vilkas asked.

"An Argonian sold it to me," Belethor said. "Just like that, out of the blue. The biggest, ugliest beast I've ever seen. Huge horns, red scales, only one eye."

"Here, in Whiterun?" Vilkas stared at the shopkeeper.

"No, no!" Belethor raised his hands. "I was just leaving Riften when he appeared out of nowhere. Almost gave me a heart attack, that ugly creature."

"How much do you want for it?" Vilkas leaned against the counter. As soon as he asked, a greedy light flashed somewhere in the shopkeeper's eyes.

"Fifty gold," Belethor demanded.

"I'll give you ten," Vilkas took out his purse.

"It's surely worth more than that," Belethor said as he tried to yank the book back but Vilkas kept it out of his reach. "Thirty-five," he added.

"Fifteen," Vilkas counted the gold. "Take it or report me of thievery."

"I'll take it," Belethor said as gathered the gold. He couldn't be happier. He spent one gold coin while buying the book from the scary, muscular Argonian and was more than glad to be rid of it. "Enjoy your reading!"

As he stepped out of the shop, he felt like he had something truly interesting in his hands. He didn't understand what compelled him to buy the book. He wasn't interested in magic or in wizards, let alone the memoirs of an old Khajiit mage. But knowledge never hurt anyone and he thought he might browse through the book in the evening, while his brother and the rest of the Companions headed to Hulda's.

He tucked the book inside his armor and started to make his way back to Jorrvaskr when he heard frantic voices and yells from the city gate. Whiterun was the city of the Companions, it was part of their duty to defend her walls. He didn't hesitate as he released the leather straps that held his sword in place. He didn't pull it out yet as not to injure the townsfolk but if need be it would be in his hands in mere seconds.

Lots of people were gathered at the gate and he could barely see what was causing such commotion. But as he saw a glimpse the white fur - Sura's fur - he pushed his way through the crowd. When he saw them clearly, the first thing he noticed was the blood. Lydia was covered in dried blood. It was in her face, her amour and in her hair.

"What is going on?" he demanded and the two exhausted women looked up at him.

"The Jarl...," Sura let out labored breaths. "We need to talk to the Jarl."

"Are you hurt? Vilkas asked and quickly pulled her closer, spun her around and searched for telltale signs of wounds and cuts. His beating heart settled only when he realized she was uninjured.

"Let's go," Lydia said. "Something terrible has happened."

"What do you mean?" Vilkas asked.

"Come with us to the Dragonsreach," Sura said and grabbed his hand. She was still exhausted from their hurried return and amazed about what they had seen. But his presence here, his concern for her, warmed her heart and calmed her down. It was a strangely familiar to be suddenly able to hold his hand. It was warm and her small fingers wrapped around his.

As they entered the Dragonsreach, the Jarl, Irileth, Hrongar and Proventus Avenicci were having a meeting. They turned their heads as the doors opened and shock and amazement shone from their faces. Hrongar, Jarl Balgruuf's younger brother, Lydia's father, was astonished to see his daughter in such a shape.

"Lydia!" Hrongar ran to her. "What happened to you?"

"What? Lydia glanced at his father and only then she remembered her appearance. Even Sura hadn't mentioned that she was still covered by the blood of the bandit whose head she cut off. Confused and slightly embarrassed she wiped her cheek and felt the lumps in her hair.

"Speak, child!" Hrongar said. "Why do you look so disheveled?"

"Hrongar," the Jarl stood up from his chair. "Give her a little space and time to explain. Now, children. What happened?"

"My Jarl," Lydia stuttered. "There is something strange going in the mountains beyond Riverwood.

"Riverwood?" The Jarl asked. "Weren't you two supposed to stay on the plains? How come you went to the mountains?"

"Jarl Balgruuf," Sura interrupted him. "We saw a dragon."

The longhouse grew silent. The guards, even the servant maids, who were sweeping the stairs of the reach, stopped what they were doing and raised their eyes. The Jarl looked at his younger brother and disbelief crossed both of their faces.

"A dragon?" Jarl Balgruuf finally said. "That's impossible."

"It was burning down the Imperial fortress," Lydia insisted.

"Helgen?" Hrongar asked. "Why would a dragon attack there?"

"If this is true," Vilkas stepped closer. "If the dragons have returned, you must send more men to the nearby villages, my Jarl. You cannot endanger people's lives."

"Hold on!" Proventus Avenicci raised his hands. "We don't even know if it's true what these girls are telling us. Maybe they saw a big bird or a cloud formation or…"

"We know what we saw," Lydia stated and her voice was steady and convincing. "It was neither bird nor a cloud. It was spewing fire, burning everything in its path. I doubt anyone survived."

"Hmm," the Jarl stroked his beard. "This is worrying news."

He walked back to his chair, sat down and deep thoughts clouded his eyes. He rubbed his hands together and finally turned to his Dunmer bodyguard.

"Irileth, send someone to Riverwood," he said. "One man is enough, for now at least. If a dragon has indeed attacked Helgen, someone in there has to know something."

"Yes, my Jarl," Irileth bowed and dismissed herself.

"The Harbinger and the rest Companions also need to know about this," Jarl Balgruuf said to Vilkas. "I believe I can trust you not to spread this around the city. No need to stir panic among the people if this turns out to be nothing at all."

"You have my word. And if the city gets attacked, the Companions will defend her and the people within," he bowed to the Jarl. He looked at Sura one last time, then turned and headed towards the door.

The Jarl looked at the two girls in front of him. These days he constantly had to remind himself that Sura and Lydia were both growing up, they were not helpless little children anymore. He didn't want to suspect their words, but a dragon - that sounded too impossible to believe.

"Sura, Lydia," he started and his voice was soft and gentler now. "You both look tired. Go clean yourselves and join us later for dinner. We'll talk more then."

Much, much later when the darkness already covered the plains of Whiterun and clouds shrouded the sky, Sura stood in the great porch of the Dragonsreach. The city was ominously quiet even though it was quite early in the evening.

They had all dined earlier, sitting in the great tables of the longhouse but the Jarl didn't ask anything about the dragon. Instead, he directed the conversation to a different topic and tormented Lydia with questions about her future wedding and marriage. Lydia answered calmly and her composure didn't give away her true feelings.

As she was standing out here now she heard the big wooden doors crack open. She didn't need to turn around; she recognized the Jarl's footsteps. He stood next to her for a moment, looked into the dark sky and sighed.

"It seems that Skyrim is in turmoil these days. This land has become a dangerous place. The war is tearing it apart. Brothers turn against each other and fathers kill their own sons in the battlefields. Bandits roam the countryside and the travelers are in constant danger. And now...even dragons…"

The war had taken its toll, Sura admitted that. It had affected the land and its people. Sura saw some deep wrinkles in his face that she hadn't noticed before. The Jarl was still a handsome and energetic man, but even he was growing older.

"In your eyes, I look tired and old, don't I?" he said as he seemingly read her mind. She lowered her gaze. "Yes, there will come a day when I join my brothers in Sovngarde. But I have no intentions of leaving just yet. I plan to live through these troubled times and see a day when this city and this land are both safe again."

"I think Whiterun is the safest city in Skyrim," Sura said. "It's always been that to me. We have Commander Caius in the charge of our city's defense. And we have the Companions and the greatest Jarl in all of the holds. Who would dare to threaten this city?"

"You flatter me," Jarl Balgruuf laughed. "But I like it. I don't get to hear genuine, kind words too often."

They stood in silence for a moment. The clouds were breaking apart and she saw a glimpse of the night sky, filled with bright, sparkling stars.

"I hope this city will remain safe," the Jarl sighed. "I wish to guarantee the safety of those who place their trust in me. Tell me, Sura. You consider Whiterun your home, don't you?"

"Yes, I do," Sura nodded.

"To this day you have not found your real family," the Jarl said. "And if you never find them, I only hope that you have another family that you can lean to. If there is no one to be found, no parents, no brothers or sisters, I hope there are people in Whiterun who you might call a family. People who you can trust and seek out if you need help. Not that you seem to need any protection these days," Jarl Balgruuf chuckled. Sura raised her eyes and a knowing smile rippled in his face. Without a word, he pulled out a heavy coin purse and placed it in front of her to the wooden railing.

"What is this?" Sura asked.

"Those bandits, there was a reward for their heads," the Jarl sneered. "I sent a mercenary after them. But as she entered the cave all of the bandits were already dead and she saw two giggling girls in the middle of the carnage. And she was able to describe you and Lydia to me in detail."

Sura bit her lip and ran her hand through her hair. She felt embarrassed, shameful but also a bit proud at the same time. She knew very well that the Jarl didn't want her or Lydia anywhere near danger, he always reminded them of Giant camps and ordered them to stay away. But now, they had not only broken their promise but were caught red-handed.

"You two deserve this reward," Jarl Balgruuf finally said. "But this is the only time I'll let something like this happen. My brother Hrongar already lost his wife, he doesn't need to lose his daughter as well. And…well. I wouldn't want to see you get hurt either."

His words warmed her heart and as he turned she grabbed his hand and for the first time in all the years, she hugged him. Jarl Balgruuf was always so nice and kind towards her and she often felt she didn't deserve this sheltered life inside the walls of the reach. She knew it couldn't last forever and some small part of her might have sensed it was coming to an end, but she wanted to hold on to these last fleeting moments. When she actually had a chance to thank him and show how much she appreciated him.

"There, there," the Jarl patted her head softly. He smiled at her and was about to go back inside when she stopped him again.

"Jarl Balgruuf," she started. "I wish you wouldn't mention what happened to Farengar. He doesn't know that I know some of his destruction spells…"

"We all have our little secrets," Jarl Balgruuf smiled. "This will stay between us. In the future, I hope you concentrate more on the healing spells and not so much on destruction."

She smiled and nodded and the Jarl's warm laughter echoed throughout the porch as he walked back inside.


	7. Chapter 7

7.

A week later Sura was at the Market District when a stranger entered the city. She noticed him immediately, probably because he was a Khajiit. But he wasn't a trader nor with the caravans. He didn't look like a wealthy or important man, but still, he was allowed inside the city walls without questions.

Sura just came from Arcadia's. Farengar and Arcadia occasionally exchanged some of the ingredients, and today the court wizard had sent her down to the Market to get some void salts. She stopped for a moment to talk with Fralia at her jewelry stand. She had split the reward with Lydia and now they both were flush with gold. But she hadn't had the chance to buy the sapphire necklace from Fralia. She was considering it and was about to head back to the Reach when she saw him for the first time. A male Khajiit. Tall, strong, and muscular.

His fur was thick and almost completely black. There were some grey stripes, few in his bare arms and some in his tail. He was wearing brown leather armor but his sleeves were cut and his muscular arms were filled with scars. The most notable and gruesome sign was a long ragged wound in his right hand. It wasn't completely healed. It reached from his shoulder almost all the way down to his wrist. It looked painful and the blood red skin shone grotesquely between the black fur. He didn't look around, ignoring everyone as he walked. Yosolda, who spent most of her days at the market, greeted him, but he passed her by without saying a word, without even so much as a glance. Like he was blind to everything around him. He headed towards the Wind District and strode up the stairs quickly and efficiently.

Sura followed him. Something about the man interested her. He wasn't very attractive. In fact, to her eyes, he was rather ugly. As she observed him from a distance she could tell that he wasn't in a good mood. His tale swiped back and forth very aggressively, his ears were drawn back and she could imagine him growling and baring his teeth to anyone who would dare to approach or talk to him.

He didn't stop at the Wind District, ignored the guards and Heimskr, who was once again at his old post, praising Talos and mocking the elves. He didn't slow down at the stairs and Sura was gasping for air as she ran after him. She kept her eyes in her feet, she was wearing a long dress and she had to be careful not to stumble on the hem as she hurried along. He continued his way to the Dragonsreach without stopping, without saying anything to anyone. As he pushed the doors open, he was immediately surrounded by the guards and Irileth. The Dunmer pulled out her sword and walked closer to the Khajiit, who still showed utmost contempt and disdain to the people around him. Irileth didn't care about Sura, so she snuck up the stairs and stood in the shadow of one of the wooden pillars, where she could see and hear everything.

"What's the meaning of this interruption? The Jarl doesn't accept visitors," Irileth said and her red eyes were gleaming dangerously.

"I have nothing to say to you, Dunmer," the Khajiit answered. His voice was low and raspy. "I'll only speak to the Jarl."

"You will answer when I ask - cat!" Irileth growled and raised her sword against his neck.

The male Khajiit didn't seem to be bothered or afraid by her attitude or her sword. He only snarled, took few steps forward and when the blade brushed against his neck, a small trail of blood ran down his skin.

"Back off!" one of the guards yelled, raised his sword and was ready to strike him down when the Jarl's voice came deep and powerful from the other side of the hall.

"Put down your swords!" he bellowed. "Irileth!"

"My Jarl, it is my responsibility to protect you," Irileth refused to back away. "From all and any threats."

"Let him through!" Jarl commanded.

Irileth frowned unhappily but lowered her weapon. As the Khajiit stepped forward, she kept her eyes on him and followed his every step. Her weapon was ready to strike at any moment. She hated it when the Jarl placed himself willingly in danger. If it was up to her, this strange wild animal should have been thrown to the Dragonsreach dungeon to rot. Now, even when he was injured and hurt, he seemed very capable and very powerful.

Sura was watching behind the wooden pillars and was taken aback. He was either very brave or very stupid. Few people ignored Irileth. Those who did usually ended up dead. If the Jarl hadn't called his men away, this Khajiit might be dead already.

"What can I do for you, friend?" Jarl Balgruuf asked.

"I come from Riverwood," he said after a while. The word "friend" seemed to irritate him. "Alvor, the blacksmith sent me. A dragon attacked Helgen. Riverwood needs more men."

"A dragon? In Helgen?" the Jarl repeated and looked at his brother. "By Ysmir, then it is true..."

"Are the people in Riverwood safe?" Hrongar looked at the Khajiit.

So it wasn't an illusion, Sura thought. It wasn't some foreign magic either. What she and Lydia saw was real. And how did this man know about it? Surely he couldn't have been at Helgen, witnessing the situation, could he? Now she was even more curious to hear everything he had to say.

"And how do you know about it?" the Jarl asked his visitor. "Are you sure it wasn't some Stormcloack raid gone wrong or...?"

"I was at Helgen when it happened," he answered. "Waiting for an execution."

The words barely left his mouth and Irileth pulled out her sword and stepped closer to the Jarl. The sharp blade was once again pointed towards the male Khajiit. He crossed his arms and a derisive smile rose on his face.

"Are you willing to finish the job, Dunmer?" he asked Irileth. "Give it your best shot."

"Enough!" Jarl Balgruuf commanded. "Irileth, put your sword away."

"This cat is a criminal scum," Irileth stated. "He should not be here at all."

"He has done us a service," the Jarl said and stood up from his chair. "Without him, we wouldn't know what is happening. Now, put the sword away, Irileth. We need to send some troops to Riverwood."

"My Jarl," Proventus Avenicci stepped forward. "If we sent more men, the Jarl in Falkreath might think it as a provocation. He'll assume we are preparing to join Ulfric and attack him."

"The safety of my people is more important!" Jarl Balgruuf retorted. Then he turned to Irileth. "Send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

"Yes, my Jarl," Irileth bowed. For a moment she stayed at the Jarl's side, still eyeing suspiciously at the male Khajiit. But the urgency of the situation commanded her to move and reluctantly she left to carry out her duties. The steward also paid his respects and returned to his post. The only people that remained in the longhouse were the Jarl, his brother, and the other Khajiit.

"You have done a great service to Whiterun and to its people," the Jarl stood up and studied his guest with great interest. "I won't soon forget it. I would like to offer you some kind of reward."

"No need," the Khajiit answered. "I paid my debt."

"Nonsense," the Jarl said. "Naturally we'll reward you for what you've done. Now, would you please tell me in detail what happened at Helgen? How did you survive the dragon attack?"

"I was rescued by an Imperial," the Khajiit said. It didn't seem like he wanted to explain his escape any further. "He goes by the name Hadvar."

"Hadvar?!" Hrongar exclaimed. "By the Gods! He was at Helgen too! Is he alright?"

The Khajiit nodded. He continued his story, using short sentences and never revealing anything about himself. When he mentioned Ulfric Stormcloack, the Jarl sighed.

"Ulfric," he murmured. "So the Empire almost got him. If he had died, this war would be over. But - he got away?"

The man nodded. Nothing in his voice gave away his real feelings but Sura noticed that as he mentioned Ulfric Stormcloack, his tail began to move frantically and his body stiffened. Either he didn't like the rebellion leader or he admired him greatly.

"I'm glad that Hadvar and you got out alive," the Jarl nodded. "You don't need to worry about the war. It's in the hands of our generals and soldiers. Krhm…would I be allowed to know your name, traveler?"

He didn't use the word friend anymore. The Khajiit stood silent for a moment. He thought very carefully before he answered. Then, he finally said "J'Ziir."

"Ah, J'Ziir," the Jarl repeated. "You seem to be a very talented man. If you would be willing to help some of my people…"

"I don't have time to help, J'Ziir interrupted. "I didn't come here to help. I don't care about your country or your people. I'm not going to stay in your city for long."

"Where are you headed?" the Jarl inquired and ignored his harsh words.

"There are some things I need to...take care of," J'Ziir answered. "In Windhelm."

"Windhelm?" Hrongar spat the word out. "They won't let your kind inside the city walls. They only love Nords up in Windhelm."

"Then the situation is no different from here," the Khajiit answered. Anger momentarily sparkled in the Jarl eyes. "Or am I wrong?"

"What do you intend to do? Join the Stormcloacks?" Jarl Balgruuf asked. "Didn't you just say you don't care about this land."

J'Ziir didn't answer. He wasn't obligated to explain his intentions. He was already annoyed at what had happened at Helgen and now this Jarl - this Nord - pretended like he cared for his kind. True, there seemed to be one Khajiit woman living in the city, but she was probably just a servant. Even now that irritating girl was hiding and eavesdropping behind one of the wooden pillars.

"The Stormcloacks won't allow any other race in their forces but Nords," Hrongar knew. "So even if you go there to join, they will probably just run you out of town."

"I met Ulfric Stormcloack in Helgen," J'Ziir said. "He'll remember me."

"Do as you see best," Jarl Balgruuf said. "But before you leave my city, I will ask you to speak to my court wizard. If for no other reason, the least he can do is give you some relief for the pain. That wound looks very painful."

The Jarl stood us, nodded at him and then he and his brother left the hall. Sura also backed away and entered Farengar's workroom. She was sure he heard everything even though he hadn't moved from his laboratory.

"Did you bring me the void salts?" the wizard asked. Sura nodded and placed the satchel on the table. Then she ran to her room, opened her small chest and picked up a red vial. She hurried back and was surprised to see the male Khajiit standing in the doorway. She was sure that he'd already managed to slip away from the Reach. She could see the pain in his eyes even though he tried his best to hide it. She didn't hesitate. She walked to him and extended her hand. "This potion will help," she said. "It will ease the pain, sterilize the wound and heal it faster."

"I heard that you are a capable man," Farengar cleared his throat. "Maybe you can help me with something."

"Don't think so," the Khajiit said.

"I understand that this might come out as very unexpected," Farengar continued. - But allow me to explain. I've been doing a research about the dragons for quite some time now. Yes, there have been rumors before this attack. You see, there is this stone tablet that I need in order to continue my studies. It's called the Draongstone. I'm not quite sure if it's actually in Bleak Falls Barrow but…"

"Not interested," J'Ziir snapped, turned to Sura, grabbed the potion from her fingers and left the room. Farengar still tried to say something but as the heavy wooden doors closed, it was already too late.

As he walked down the steep, stone stairs, he squeezed the vial in his hand. He wanted to throw it away, he didn't want the pity or the compassion of these people. But life taught him not to throw anything useful away so he tucked the potion inside his armor. He looked around the Market District, darkness had already fallen over the city and all the stands were closed. He recognized the Inn by the loud voices and as he opened the door, he readied himself once again to feel their judgmental gazes. The place was surprisingly vacant, only a few people sitting around and no one raised their eyes when the door slammed shut behind him. Only the innkeeper looked up and welcomed the guest.

"Need a room or maybe some food?" she asked him. "Or just a drink?"

"The room," J'Ziir replied. "How much?"

"Ten gold," she said. "That includes a bath, clean sheets, and a good night's sleep. And don't mind Mikael, he will stop singing when his voice gets too hoarse."

"Deal," he said and counted the coins. He was mildly surprised by her attitude. She was friendly and treated him like any other guest in the inn.

"Your room is upstairs," she swiped the gold in her hand and tucked them under the counter. "I'll bring you some warm water."

"Bring some food as well," he placed a few more coins on the counter.

She smiled and nodded. He turned, looked around for a moment and then headed upstairs. His arm was now aching and throbbing. He could barely move his hand without grimacing and he realized his fingers were starting to feel numb. The room was clean and simple; it had a big bed and a small inner balcony. He sat down on the bed and tried to move his hand. His thumb was moving fine but the index finger and the middle finger were stiff and rigid. When he moved his little finger, hot flames of pain shot up his arm and shoulder. He gritted his teeth closed his eyes and waited for the pain to pass. You have been through much more than this, he told himself. And you're still alive.

Someone knocked lightly on the door. The innkeeper came in with a tray filled with food and drink. She clapped her hands and two men carried in a large bathtub and poured many buckets of warm water in it. They left one bucket of cold water beside it, in case the water was too hot.

"That looks painful," the innkeeper said while she organized the food on the small table. "I could call for a priestess from the Temple of Kynareth. They could help you."

"No need," he huffed. "I'll be fine."

"Alright," she nodded. "Just call me when you're done and I'll tell the men to come and take out the bathtub."

He nodded and a moment later he left alone once more. He looked at the steaming bathtub. He didn't remember when was the last time he took a proper bath. Long before Helgen, that's for sure. He started to remove his armor but the pain in his arm caused him to groan. The small, red vial rolled down to the floor from his pocket.

He picked it up and thought what the girl had said. "It will ease the pain and help the wound heal faster." He unscrewed the cork and smelled the liquid inside. The scent was amiable and kind of flowery. He didn't recognize the flower but his nose didn't pick up any unfamiliar odors either. Fine, he thought. Let's see does it help at all. He poured the potion in his mouth, swallowed it and waited for the effect.

Almost immediately he could sense a strong, warm feeling surrounding his arm. The pain subsided and as he watched, the skin around the wound began to heal and mend itself. The lacerations closed down, the blood vessels stitched together and in mere moments the only visible thing left was a large, pale scar. He moved his arm and his fingers but could only feel a slight discomfort in his shoulder now. That's some powerful stuff you have there, little girl, he thought as he removed his cuirass and his pants.

He sighed deeply as the warm water surrounded his body. His closed his eyes and immediately the memories rushed back. He didn't need to call them or dig for them; they were always there, in the back of his head. All he needed to do was open the door. He had done that too often in the recent years. The Khajiit girl in the Dragonsreach reminded him of Zahraji. She had the same deep, blue eyes. And as soon as he remembered her, he remembered his purpose. The reason he came to this wretched land.

His anger grew and his hate towards this land and its people momentarily clouded his mind. He had been so close, so close to his goal. But there was always something that prevented him from succeeding. The first time, the Imperials got involved and the second time a damn dragon. Big, ugly beast, black as the night. He wasn't stupid and he realized that if it wasn't for the dragon, he would have died along with the rebels.

He'd had his chance in the midst of the chaos when the blond Nord dragged him to nearest keep. His hands were still tied, and he calculated that the odds were against him. He wouldn't have time to rip Ulfric's throat open and be sure that he was dead. It would take more than claws to finish him off. He was ready to wait. For a little while longer.

Wait for the perfect moment. If they would allow him to join and he would gain their trust...well, then it should be easy to just cut off his head and be done with it. He wouldn't let eagerness, optimism or impatience mess up his plans. Not this time. He made the wrong decisions last time and the Imperials had caught him and almost chopped his head off.

Windhelm was far away from Whiterun. He needed some gold, new armor, and better weapons. He had not forgotten what Farengar had proposed to him earlier in the evening, his memory didn't allow him to forget things.

Fine, he thought. He would get the stone tablet to the wizard. And if it really was as important as he made it sound, he would be willing to pay a fair amount for it.


	8. Chapter 8

8.

Incredibly enough, Sura had a free day. She didn't have anything to do. Farengar didn't need her help and Eorlund wasn't at the Skyforge that day. Most of the Companions were also gone from Jorrvaskr, so Sura only saw Vignar as she crossed the Wind District. She had heard that Lydia was at the guard barracks, near the front gates so that's where she was headed. It seemed that Commander Caius was once again trying to get her to join the Whiterun guards. Lydia had trained with them and Commander Caius had personally trained her for the past few years, whenever he had the time. He saw potential in her.

She passed the Market and headed towards the barracks. She stopped to greet the guard who was on duty that day and he told her that Lydia wasn't in. She and her father went to Riverwood to meet Hadvar. They were naturally worried about him since he was at Helgen and survived. Sura imagined that Hrongar was more than interested to hear his side of the story and maybe get little more information about the Khajiit, J'Ziir, that Hadvar had rescued.

Sura walked on, she didn't go back to the Market but instead climbed the stairs to the Wind District. She greeted Carlotta's daughter, Mila, who was hurrying to play with Lars. Sura smiled and remembered clearly when she and Lydia were their age and played tag and hide and seek together. Back then it was just the two of them. She and Lydia, running around, giggling and screaming. The memory brought a smile on her face and she sat down on a bench, under the withering Gildergreen. The tree never had any leaves and its empty, white branches made her a little sad. She glanced towards Jorrvaskr. Eorlund wasn't at the forge but did it mean that she should stay clear of it as well. She was pleased that she now had a purpose, something to do. This day would be endless if she would have to just sit around and walk back and forth in the city. She stood up and climbed the stairs to the mead hall. She turned left but was stopped by a busy looking man with a heavy satchel on his shoulder. He handed her a note.

"Here," the courier said. "For the Companions."

"But, I'm not…"

"This is Jorrvaskr, right?" he asked and she nodded. "The right place then. I'm sorry, I'm really busy. I need head to Markarth before it gets too dark."

He ran down the stairs and was out of sight before she could even open her mouth. The note he gave her was meant for the Companions of Whiterun. She shrugged her shoulders; it would be enough if she took it in and gave it to someone. It's not like they didn't like her presence in Jorrvaskr.

When she was younger, she liked to listen to Vignar and the stories of his youth. He was good at telling tales and he almost always spiced them up a little, so there were lots of exaggeration but also real situations, all tied together by his good imagination. Aela offered to teach her archery, but to this day, she didn't have the chance to take up on her offer. Today would have been the perfect day if she were in Whiterun. She opened the wooden door and peeked inside the mead hall. It was empty and quiet. The huge tables were filled with food and drink and the massive fire pit was smoldering so it hadn't been that long since someone was here. She looked around for a moment and finally found Vignar from his room. He was polishing his leather boots and when Sura handed the note to him, he shrugged his shoulder but didn't accept it.

"Don't give it to me," he grunted. "You know my memory isn't what it used to be. I might just stick it somewhere and forget it all together."

"But there's no one else here," she said. "And if I leave to the table, it might fall to the floor and the outcome would be the same."

"Vilkas is here," Vignar said before spitting on his boot. "He's downstairs, in his room. Take it to him, he'll know what to do."

"There's really no one else here?" she asked and suddenly her heart was beating uncomfortably hard. To go down to his room, his bedroom...

"Well, there's Tilma, but I can't imagine giving it to her makes any difference that giving it to me," Vignar snorted. "Go on now. I have things to do."

He practically pushed her out of the room, slammed the door shut and she glanced towards the other side of the hall. Large, wooden stairs led to another area, to the living quarters downstairs. Fine, she thought. I only need to go there, give it to him and get out. That's all.

Now feeling determined, she walked across the mead hall and down the stairs. She had been in the living quarters only a couple of times. Once with Aela, when she wanted to show her priceless elven bow, which she kept in a locked display in her room. The other time was with Ria when she a little too much to drink and Sura had escorted her back to Jorrvaskr. The long hallway was as empty as the upstairs mead hall. She knew that Ria, Njada, Torvar, and Athis slept in the first rooms but Aela, Skjor, Farkas, and Vilkas had their own rooms a little further down the hallway. The last room belonged to the Harbinger, Kodlak Whitemane. His door was never open and she had never been in there.

At the end of the hallway, she stopped for a moment and turned right. His door was closed and her heart was beating way too fast for her to hear anything else. Silently, she walked to the door, raised her hand and knocked.

"Yes?" his voice grunted from inside the room and carefully she opened the door.

It was a simple and convenient room with a bed, a table, and some bookshelves. As soon as she entered, he stood up from the bed, where he was sitting and reading a book. He wasn't wearing his armor, he had dark leather trousers and a white, clean shirt. His hair looked damp like he had just taken a bath. He looked surprised to see her.

"Sura," he mumbled her name and he had to clear his throat to get the words out.

"This was given to me by a courier," she said as she handed the note to him. "For the Companions. He was so busy he thought I was one of you and gave it to me. I tried to give it to Vignar but he ordered me to come downstairs because you are apparently home…and well…here I am."

"Thank you," he closed the book and took the note. He read the note, scratched his forehead and frowned.

"Is something wrong?" she asked.

"Bears are causing problems near Ivarstead, disturbing the local sawmill owner. Many people have been injured," Vilkas explained. "Aela needs to know about this. She usually handles these things."

"But she's not here now," Sura said. "And people need help. Can't you go yourself?"

"All beasts in Skyrim are dangerous and unpredictable," Vilkas folded his arms. "But bears especially. During the mating season, the males are frantic and ferocious. It would be foolish to go alone."

"That's true," Sura nodded. "Better wait for the others to come. It would be terrible, if...if someone was injured."

He folded the note and placed it on his table. As he turned to look at her again, she was staring at his armor. He had taken it off, cleaned it and oiled it. Now it hanged on a stand which was particularly made for the purpose. She raised her hand and touched the wolf head carefully.

"What does this mean?" she looked back at him curiously. "It must have a meaning, right?

"The wolf?" he walked over to her. "The wolves of Skyrim are like no other animals. They are strong, durable, and wise. They live in packs. They take care of each other, they hunt together. They are a family, like the Companions."

Sura looked at him. His voice was warm and passionate, this was something that was very important to him. His family meant a lot to him, his brothers and sisters, they were all here, under the same roof. He never needed to ask for their love or help, he had earned it just by being here and doing what he did best. He was one of the leaders of the pack and others respected and listened to him.

"It's a good choice," Sura admitted.

He nodded. "Did you know that wolves mate for life?"

It was a very innocent question and there was nothing insinuating about it. They looked at each other and Vilkas suddenly realized what his words must sound like. He cleared his throat and face flushed. Sura tried to cover her laugh with a fake cough and it lightened up the mood a little.

"That's quite hard to believe," she managed to respond. "When you look at Farkas…"

"True," Vilkas chuckled. "But I think he's an exception. Every pack needs one wild and completely brainless being. So life doesn't get too boring."

They both laughed out loud. It was very easy to laugh with him she now realized. She hadn't known that Vilkas had a sense of humor, he always seemed too serious and solemn. But there seemed to be many things she wasn't familiar with. This ordinary, accessible man was a stranger to her. A stranger, but an interesting, fascinating stranger. This was a part of him that she wanted to get to know.

He looked at her and enjoyed the sound of her laughter. Unlike the other Khajiits, her voice wasn't husky or rough. It was lighter, clearer. And she didn't talk like the others either. He never heard her using that strange third person pronoun when she meant herself. He could only imagine it was partly because she lived her whole life among the Nords and adapted to their customs. She resembled a Nord but was so different from them at the same time. Vilkas didn't understand what it was about her that drew him to her. He just liked everything about her. She was light, clear, small, precious.

"I think I better go," Sura began. "I only came here to give you the message. And now you have it."

"Did you know there was a Khajiit mage at the Winterhold College?" the question popped into his head like he invited it in. He didn't even realize it came from his own mouth. And he didn't understand why he decided to bring it up right now.

"A Khajiit mage?" Sura's eyes went round. "Really?"

"I bought this book from Belethor the other day," Vilkas picked up the old journal. "At first I thought it was nothing but it turned out to be quite interesting. Here, take a look."

They sat down to the bed and Vilkas turned the pages. It was an old and tattered journal, filled with his long and winding, almost scientific explanations. He tested out new spells, dug up old and forgotten ones and mixed weird and strange alchemy potions. He drew diagrams of his inventions and detailed pictures of the magical artifacts he discovered. Vilkas flipped the pages and suddenly Sura grasped his arm. Her nails dug into his flesh and her face was pale, her eyes big and round. She stared at the picture in front of her. It was a delicate necklace, shaped like a crescent moon. Made of gold and moonstone. An exact copy of the one she had on her neck.

"That's odd. I didn't notice this one before," Vilkas muttered. "I read the whole book but this wasn't here. I swear it wasn't."

"Do you know what this means?" Sura squeezed his arm and stared at him with wide eyes. "The writer…might know me. He could know who I am! Where I come from!"

She jumped up and paced around the room twisting her fingers. Vilkas wanted to help her but he was having a hard time believing that a hint of her past just conveniently dropped into their lap like this. He glanced at the necklace in the faded, old picture and then the jewel that she wore in her neck. They bore similarities but he couldn't say for sure that it was exactly the same shape.

"Did Belethor mention where he got the book?" Sura took his hand into hers and stared pleadingly into his eyes. "Did he say anything, anything at all?"

"Some strange Argonian sold it to him outside Riften," Vilkas said and grabbed her shoulders. She was clearly ready to run out of the room, pack her things and run foolishly after some thin thread of hope that held nothing but empty promises. "But that was all. He could have been a vagrant, some poor peddler who doesn't where this book came from or who wrote it."

"There are some things I can remember," she weakly insisted. "So small and insignificant, just sounds and smells and…and I don't even know if it's real or just my imagination. I always thought I dreamed it up. I always thought there was nothing, but don't you see, Vilkas? If this can lead me to somewhere…to someone…"

She couldn't continue as she realized how insane her words must have sounded. She raised her hand to wipe her tears and Vilkas pulled her into his arms and stroke her back. She didn't feel ashamed to lean against his chest, she only felt emptiness after her foolish hope.

"What do you remember?" he asked with a soft, soothing voice.

"I think…I touched something," Sura sighed.

"Touched?" he encouraged her to continue.

"Yes, it was...furry, rough and alive," she whispered. "And it smelled like the forest. Pine trees and dead leaves. The heavy dampness after a downpour. I touched an arm or a leg, something slender."

She lifted her gaze and his face was so close now. It was safe in his arms and once again she wished she could be part of his life. But like so many other things, she accepted this truth as well. A proud Nord like him would never settle for a cat like her. One day a tall, blonde, muscular warrior woman would steal his heart and then she would only hold these few, fleeting memories of him.

As she realized that memories were all she would have of him, she did something she would always remember. She took action and her own destiny in her hands. She touched his face, got on her toes and kissed him.


	9. Chapter 9

9.

His lips were soft and warm against hers. She couldn't believe this was happening. She couldn't believe she had actually initiated this. She closed her eyes and opened them again. But he didn't disappear. He held her tight, wrapped his hands around her waist and pulled her closer. She could feel his heart, which was beating so fast, and his breath against her mouth. He wasn't violent, fierce nor did he try to force himself on her. His touch was light as the butterfly's wings. She leaned closer and as the kiss deepened, she uttered out a little cry and extended her neck towards him.

When she felt his tongue in her mouth, she trembled; shivers ran down her spine and made her stomach quiver. His hands made her weak and she knew this was it. There was no other man she would ever love or want. This was the one man she waited most of her life.

The faint smell of lavender and tundra cotton lingered around him, surrounded and enveloped him. She had taken him by surprise. At first, when her lips were lightly pressed against his, he was completely bewildered. But then, he answered to her kiss, gently parted her lips with his own and slipped his tongue inside her mouth to taste and to tease. He told himself to take it slow and be gentle, she clearly had very little if any experience with men.

He was submerged in her, he only wanted to feel, taste and smell and hear her. In the back of his mind, something ordered him to slow down, stop this and assess the situation. She was here, but she was vulnerable. Hadn't he just witnessed her tears and seen the desperation in her eyes. It would be wrong to press her, wrong to ask this, to demand more when she really didn't know what she was doing. Slowly he pulled away from her and pressed his forehead against hers. He smiled and listened to her heavy breathing, he could feel her heart, and it was beating just as fast as his own. Her eyes were searching his.

"Well...that was unexpected," Vilkas muttered.

"It certainly was," Sura blushed and pressed her hand against her lips. "I'm sorry…I don't know what I was thinking…"

"You have nothing to apologize for," Vilkas said reassuringly. "What more could a man want? To be kissed by a beautiful woman."

She smiled at his remark and her cheeks turned pink. Now it was getting awkward, but this awkwardness was cute, playful and pleasant. She tried to tell herself that maybe he really meant it, that it wasn't just a façade he put up to spare her from embarrassment.

"Do you want to take the book with you?" Vilkas finally asked. "Maybe you can find something else that I didn't notice."

"If I can," Sura said.

"Sure," Vilkas agreed. "Just let me know if you find something. I can help you do some research if you need to. I'm pretty good at that."

He opened the door and they stepped into the hallway. They both wanted to say something more but neither knew how to start. And when they finally knew what they wanted to say, it was already too late, because Farkas was tumbling downstairs. Actually, he rolled down like barrel full of mead and clambered to his feet mumbling curses and insults to some invisible enemy.

"Kitty cat!" Farkas slurred when he finally saw her.

"Farkas," Sura greeted and she momentarily forgot his speed and spontaneous nature. Even Vilkas was surprised when he strode over, grabbed her in his arms and spun her around in the hallway.

"My true love!" he yelled. "My true love is here, guys!"

"Put her down before you get hurt," Vilkas ordered but his voice was soft. "Her claws are quite dangerous."

"I don't see any scratches in your face, so how would you know," Farkas glanced at his brother and refused to let Sura go. "Listen, kitty cat, if my stubborn brother rejects you again and again...you just forget about him and come to me, alright. He doesn't know how to treasure a woman like you. He only buries himself in books! Since when books taught you anything about real love!"

"Good to know I can trust you, if things don't work out," Sura laughed and hugged him warmly.

"Oh, definitely," Farkas assured her and out of nowhere planted a moist, affectionate kiss on her cheek.

"That's quite enough," Vilkas frowned at his brother. "Put her down."

"Jealous, are we?" Farkas smirked but lowered the flabbergasted Khajiit girl to the floor.

"I might be," Vilkas said with a straight face. "And then you'd be in real trouble."

"I think I'll go now," Sura mumbled and straightened her skirt.

"Night, kitty cat," Farkas smiled.

"Night, Sura," Vilkas said and grabbed his brother's arm. "And you, troublemaker...

Sura walked to the door, turned back and saw the brothers laughing and talking. Then suddenly Farkas jumped on his brother and they came crashing down to the floor. After that all she could hear where muffled curses and Farkas' laughter. When she walked back to Dragonsreach, she felt like this could be the first night in ages, when she would be able to sleep soundly.

A few days later Sura was working with Farengar. He was still doing his dragon research and wondered was there any way to get some old bones or scales. He didn't know where the burial mounds were and even if he did, he wouldn't dare to go to dig himself. So he was stuck with his studies and that made him irritated.

He tried to keep his mind on other things, like some of the new potions he developed. He sent Sura around the city to collect his ingredients and when she returned, he sat her down before the table and began to explain what he wanted to accomplish. They were so immersed in the recipe which required attention and patience that they both jumped when a heavy stone tablet was thrown to the table beside them. It broke some of the specimen jars and Farengar lifted his angry eyes to the person who caused such damage. He quickly calmed when he saw the male Khajiit, J'Ziir, standing in the doorway. He was dirty, covered with spider webs and rock dust.

"Here's your stone," J'Ziir stated. "Pay up!"

"Is it...really?" Farengar gasped. "The Dragonstone?"

His eyes sparkled, he walked closer and was about to touch it, but it was yanked out his reach. J'Ziir stared at him with cold, dark eyes. "It's yours when I get my gold, wizard!"

"I don't have gold, Farengar spread his arms. "You must ask your reward from the Jarl."

"Better take it to him then," J'Ziir turned around. "Where is he?"

"Please, just give it to me," Farengar pleaded. "I'll make sure you will get paid."

"How much, exactly?" J'Ziir asked. "When you count all the draugrs, the spiders, the bandits, the skeevers...how much do you think this is worth?"

"A fair amount, I give you my word," Farengar begged.

"Fine, I don't have the energy to carry it around," J'Ziir tossed the tablet back to the table again. Then he smirked at the court wizard. "And if the Jarl doesn't pay enough...I'll just "take" something from you in return. Now...where is he?"

"Farengar!" Irileth ran into the room. She ignored J'Ziir completely and that was surprising. Once Irileth considered you a threat, she would never change her opinion. "You need to come at once! A dragon has been sighted nearby. You should come too," Irileth said as she turned towards J'Ziir and the Khajiit only shrugged his shoulders.

"I only came to collect my gold," he stated plainly.

"A dragon?" Farengar repeated. "Really? That's exciting. Where was it seen? How long ago? What was it doing?"

"This is not exciting," Irileth growled. "It's dangerous and devastating. You better take this more seriously. If this dragon attacks us, there isn't much we can do about it."

"It would be interesting to catch it alive," Farengar planned. "This is Dragonsreach, after all. We could..."

"Oh, be quiet!" Irileth ordered. "The Jarl needs us. Come on!"

Irileth rushed on ahead, Farengar followed, and Sura ran after them. She wanted to know what was happening if there was anything she could do. Jarl Balgruuf was upstairs questioning one of the guardsmen. He looked baffled, and still in shock as he tried to form words. He finally managed to explain that he ran from the western watchtowers. That was where the dragon was sighted. Not very far from the city.

The Jarl turned to his bodyguard. "Irileth, take some guardsmen and get down there."

"Yes, my Jarl," Irileth bowed. "I already ordered my men to muster near the main gate."

"Excellent," the Jarl nodded. "Send someone to Jorrvaskr as well. We need the Companions."

Then Jarl Balgruuf noticed the male Khajiit and turned to him "Ah, J'Ziir. Good to see you. I'm afraid I'll have to ask your help…"

"I still haven't received my last payment," he said with a snarl. "And I didn't come here to help!"

"I understand," the Jarl nodded. "But you are the only one who has faced a dragon and lived to tell about it. My men and this city need you. I give you my word, you will be rewarded handsomely."

"Not interested," J'Ziir turned to leave when Sura suddenly stepped in his way.

"Is gold all you care about?" she asked him. "This land is home to more people than just the Nords. Even Khajiits live here, and they are much more defenseless than others. Don't you wish to protect them?"

"Protecting them would be easier if they were allowed inside the cities," J'Ziir growled and his eyes were flaming. "The Nords sit around in their fancy halls and preach about their noble ways. I have no obligation or will to protect these people. What do I owe to them?"

"They let me inside," Sura stated. "These people are my family…"

"Good for you then," J'Ziir interrupted her. "But you're more of a hypocrite than the rest of these people. You are a Khajiit. Still, here you are. Dressed in fancy clothes, eating good food, sleeping in a warm bed. Do you have any idea how much your life differs from those who travel across the roads? You are quite safe here, princess."

"Enough!" Jarl Balgruuf shouted. "You don't wish to help, then don't help. But don't waste our time either."

"Didn't mean to!" J'Ziir glanced back. "She started it."

He passed her and strode downstairs. Without a word Sura turned and ran after him. She caught up with him at the bottom of the stairs.

"What if it was your family!" Sura yelled at him and he stopped. "If one of those caravans were part of your family! If it was someone you loved. Your parents, sisters, brothers, maybe your own children. Even then, wouldn't you want to help them?"

His body stiffened, he stood there silently for a moment. Then he turned, ears drawn flat against his head, claws ready to strike her down. Fear flashed through her body but she stood her ground. He hit his other hand on the stone wall, right next to her head, his claws ripping out small sharp chips. He towered over her even when he was standing one step lower than she.

"If it wasn't for this land and then Nords, I would still have my family," he hissed at her. "If it wasn't for the Nords, they would be safe and happy and alive. You want to defend the Nords - go right ahead. Run out there and face that dragon, throw your meaningless life away trying to protect these people. Leave my family alone. Let them rest in peace!"

She had never been so afraid before. She closed her eyes and heard his footsteps as he finally walked away. She glanced at the wall where he had smashed his hand, deep scratches in the stone and some blood. He hurt his hand but he didn't even notice it. Sura swallowed her tears back. What J'Ziir had said was infuriating, but true.

He was right.

She was the only Khajiit that lived inside the city walls. Had she ever thought about the others? Had she ever asked the Jarl to let them in? No. She never considered the conditions they lived in. The constant dangers they faced in their travels.

She only tried to survive her own nightmares.


	10. Chapter 10

10.

"J'Ziir! Leave your sister alone!"

"She started it!"

She started it.

How many times in their childhood he used that argument. He remembered his mother giving him a stern look but after a while, everything was forgotten and the sunny, warm, lazy days went on.

He didn't notice the people of Whiterun hurrying along, parents went after their children, the Market was closed, the guards ordered and herded people to safe areas, and men gathered their weapons and prepared to defend their homes. He passed the vegetable stand and heard the frantic cries of a woman calling out for her daughter. Her voice was high pitched and nervous. Beside her stood a man, the blond bard from the local inn. He kept telling her she had to get to safety. She pushed him aside and kept looking around, peeking under the stands and asking the running guards had they seen the child.

J'Ziir moved on. It wasn't his problem. He was almost at the main gate when a low tearful cry echoed under the bridge. He glanced around, no one else seemed to notice. A shallow stream flowed around Whiterun and it ran under a small, stone bridge just by the gates. He stepped closer to the edge and there it was again, only this time it was clearer. He jumped over the railing, landed in the water with a splash, squatted and peeked under the bridge.

In the dim light, he saw a small girl, probably ten or maybe even younger. She was curled up in a ball, her face streaked with tears and covered by moss and dirt. She looked tired and terrified. She was holding her left leg and her big brown eyes were filled with tears.

"I sprained my ankle," she stuttered. "I was trying to get to mom..."

"I sprained my ankle, J'Ziir! Carry me home!"

He wanted to ignore her, he really did, but old voices inside his head compelled him to help. He was able to block out the demands of men and women, but children, little kids like this girl were usually innocent.

"How did you end up here?" he asked softly, reached out his hands and picked her up.

"L...Lars and I were playing hide and seek," she mumbled. "But then people started to run around and I tried to run too but…but then I stumbled and fell and…"

"Where's your mother?" J'Ziir asked her.

"She works in the Market," the girl said. "I'm Mila. What's your name?"

He didn't answer but she didn't seem to mind his silence. He carried her to the Market. The brown-haired woman was still there and now she was fighting the bard, who was currently trying to pull her out of the plaza.

"Mom!" Mila yelled and as she saw her daughter, she pushed the man away and ran to them. She threw her arms around her child and momentarily he was enveloped in her embrace as well.

"Thank you so much," The woman looked up at him and he saw tears glistening in her eyes. "May the Gods bless you."

"She sprained her ankle," he repeated the child's words since there was nothing else to say. "Go home. This might get dangerous."

"Are you going help to fight the dragon?" Mila asked him. Now that she was back with her mother, her face was brighter and she ever smiled a little. "If you are, I'm sure Whiterun will be safe. You look very strong."

First time in years a genuine smile rose to his face. He didn't know why, but the little girl and her endless faith in his strength reminded him of Zahraji. When his sister was little, she also looked up at him and believed that whatever might happen, he would always protect her.

Mila and her mother hurried off the Market. He turned and walked to the main gate, saw the guards running out and take their positions. He saw a group of warriors, all in matching armors, a wolf's head decorated the chest plate. A man who led them was strong and determined and ordered his people around with short, steady commands.

J'Ziir walked out of the gate and honestly wondered why the Jarl wanted his help. He had all these men, these skilled warriors, and high stone walls. J'Ziir faced a dragon and lived to tell about it but he didn't kill it or fight it. No, he ran like the rest of sorry losers. And that's why he was alive. He couldn't imagine what "help" he could offer. And why would he?

You didn't get paid yet, he stern voice reminded him. You walk out now, there is no turning back. You have to get to Windhelm by foot, without a proper armor or decent weapons. He looked at his sword. He grabbed it from one of the bandits in Bleak Falls Barrow. It was quite good, a normal steel sword, easy to swing around and light to use. Normally he preferred axes. He had perfected his hand-eye coordination and when he was fully armed, fully prepared and healthy, he could fight countless of enemies at once. He missed his bow and arrow. His own, worn ebony bow which he used for years. But it was lost, like many others things. Taken from him when the Imperials dragged him to Helgen.

I need new weapons. Better yet - new axes, he thought. And a decent bow, something that felt good and was comfortable to use and to carry. His armor was torn and worn out, filled with scratches and holes. He noticed that extremely well in Bleak Falls Barrow when an arrow almost nailed him against the nearest wall. His shoulder was still a little sore from that blow. So - new armor as well. And in the back of his head there was still one thing nagging, a thing he wanted to deny. The Khajiit girl. She gave him the healing potion. He didn't thank her but he did use it. And because of it, the massive wound in his arm was now completely healed.

You always pay your debts.

Killing a dragon sounded a little too much for a small bottle of potion. Yes, but by fighting this thing you will earn a reward that will pay for the weapons, armor, a horse and maybe even some food before you leave Whiterun. Fine! he shook his head before he had any time to change his mind. He glanced towards the Western Watchtowers. So far, no movement there. Let's kill the dragon then, or at least try to fight it. But the reward better be much, much better than few measly pieces of gold.

The city was quiet. Everyone was on the edge. Sura, Lydia, her father and the Jarl were standing on the high stone wall that surrounded Whiterun. Some of the Jarl's guards asked him to stay in the reach, but he was determined to defend. He would not remain sheltered while his city burned around him. Only incompetent leaders ordered their men from throne rooms. They saw the watchtowers - something was burning there. The men gathered around looked like tiny, little ants but there was no sign of the dragon yet.

And then out of nowhere - a roar. A huge, winged lizard swooped down from the clouds, opened its mouth and started spewing fire upon the fighting men. They were trying to bring it down with arrows, but its hide was too thick for their measly iron arrows to pierce. It circled around and came back for another attack.

"By the Gods," Lydia whispered. "They are getting slaughtered down there."

The dragon turned, grabbed few men in its massive talons, raised them high in the air and then finally dropped them back to the ground. Only a few of them moved now, taking cover and shooting arrows and the winged beast. It was hard to see what was happening exactly. The smoke and the flames covered most of the ground. But Sura thought she still could make out Irileth. She was gathering the few men she still had and preparing for another attack.

The city gates opened and the Companions rushed out to battle. Sura saw Vilkas leading his brothers and sisters and she suffocated the small twinge of worry that twisted her stomach to knots. The dragon seemed almost impossible to beat down. It was massive, its scales were hard as a rock, its talons huge and sharp and its tail powerful and strong. And then she saw movement from the corner of her eye. J'Ziir, the male Khajiit, walked across the plains. He didn't seem to be in a hurry, he was walking, every now and then he jogged a little.

"He decided to help," the Jarl smiled. "Maybe he is not so callous after all.

"But what can he do?" Sura asked. "You saw what happened to the others!"

J'Ziir wasn't in a hurry. He spotted the dragon, saw what happened to the guards of Whiterun and decided to save his energy. Only a fool rushed into something they weren't familiar with. He only had his sword - not the best possible weapon and not the best possible situation. He saw a group of warriors run out from Whiterun, their leader was the man whose grey eyes burned dangerously and who wore the wolf armor. He considered turning around. He actually slowed down and loitered for a while thinking about the situation. They could probably handle the dragon themselves. No need for him to risk his life.

A massive shadow glided over him, he felt the draft of the enormous animal as it sailed over him. The others were still quite far away and the dragon was now circling him. He stopped running and looked up. No need to waste energy, no need to run after it, he told himself. Let it come to you.

The dragon came from behind, it swooped around and as it descended, it opened its mouth and a destructive flame shower rained toward him. He anticipated it, rolled aside at the last moment, pulled out his sword and felt the heat of flames as it burned everything in its path. It fried parts of his fur and the tip of his tale.

"Well played," he smiled sarcastically, suppressed few smaller flames that were simmering in his fur and kept his eyes on the flying beast. He tested out his arm, swung the sword around a couple of times. The monster dropped down from the sky right in front of him. The earth shook under his feet, rocks and dust flew around and he could smell its putrid breath. But still, he couldn't stop smiling. The insane, half crazy smirk stayed on his face as he raised his sword and charged forward.

Up on the stone wall, they watched the heated one-on-one battle down in the ground. Irileth was ready to order his men forward but for some reason, she didn't raise order them to attack. The Companions also stopped some distance away. Everyone was hypnotized of what was happening in front of them.

J'Ziir was quick and agile. He didn't waste time as he charged forward. He evaded the monsters sharp teeth and jaws and plunged his sword first in the softer, more vulnerable skin under its head and only a moment later, he slashed out its other eye. The dragon roared out in pain, spread its wings and was about to take off, but its adversary climbed on its back and struck his sword deep into the flesh. He used his body weight to slide down its side and the sword carved out a gaping wound in the hide. His movements were fluent and precise. His body was a weapon and he knew how to wield it. This man experienced situations like these before and it seemed he knew exactly what he was doing and what he wanted to accomplish.

The dragon was resilient. It swung its powerful tale, it hit J'Ziir and send him flying to the cold, hard ground. Miraculously he was able to hold on to his sword and as he slid against the ground, he reached out his other hand and used his claws to gain leverage and get back up. His bulging muscles made it look easy and before the slide was over, he was back on his feet.

"Is he still alive?" Lydia covered her eyes with her hands.

"He survived Helgen," the Jarl said. "Now we know why."

The Khajiit and the dragon measured each other. This time he didn't charge, he waited. He remained perfectly still, he knew the dragon couldn't see with its other eye. Because of the deep wound, it wasn't able to lift off either. But neither one of those wounds stopped it from bursting out fiery flames around. It extended its neck, roared, and breathed out fire in a semicircle. The wall of flames now separated the man and the dragon. The fire and smoke blinded it, the huge animal wasn't able to see or hear its enemy.

He jumped through the fire right in front of it. He didn't notice his fur was on fire and his armor was in tatters, almost falling off his body. The dragon opened its jaws but its prey was fast and smart. As soon as he hit the ground, he rolled down, dodged the huge talons and plunged his sword into the dragon's neck and underbelly. He pressed against the sword, felt how the soft flesh gave away and as the dragon tried to move, its neck and stomach was sliced open. It roared loudly, J'Ziir was covered with blood and intestines and he knew that giant beast was about to crush him.

He rolled away and with a loud thud, the dragon collapsed to the ground. A huge cloud of smoke and dust surrounded him, stuck to his fur and as he wiped the muck from his face, he tasted the iron and the dirt in his mouth. He was covered in blood, it clung to his fur like a thick, sticky layer and made him look grotesque. He felt the blow from the creature's tale and moaned as he took a few steps away from it. He glanced back, the dragon was now dead, a huge pool of blood spread around it and was absorbed into the ground.

Besides the flames and the wind, everything was completely quiet around him. He saw people, the Jarl's irritating Dunmer bodyguard, warrior group standing not too far away. He wondered why they hadn't helped. It would have been so much easier if there was someone... but there never was.

There never is.

Suddenly a blinding light pierced his eyes. He fell to his knees. Like a hot, iron dagger was shoved through is head and bore down into his brain. His body trembled and a something strange and strong rushed through his muscles and bones, an incredible force that made him gag and almost throw up. He dug his claws to the ground cried out in pure pain.

And then it was over. As quickly as it began. He opened his eyes and for a moment, he only saw darkness. The dragon was still alive! thoughts rushed through his head. You fool! You shouldn't have turned your back to it. You never, ever turn your back to your enemies until you are sure they are dead. I'm blind…blind…

"Are you alright?" a woman's voice called out to him.

Slowly he started to distinguish her features. Long, red hair, gleaming yellow eyes and green war paint spread across her face. She helped him up and supported him when he almost fell back to the ground. They all watched him, some with interested, others with fear.

He didn't understand why they stared and pretty soon it started to annoy him. He pushed the woman aside and turned back to the dragon. He wanted to get his sword back. Irileth and her men ran to the dragon, which lay in the ground, bare bones sticking out towards the sky. He stepped closer, touched the bones and couldn't understand what happened.

"What did you do?" Irileth approached him.

"I killed it," J'Ziir shrugged his shoulders. "What, are you going to spurn my help?"

"You did something else," Irileth said as she ignored his words. "You absorbed something from it."

"Like what?" J'Ziir stared at her. She was the one who was delusional. "It's memories, maybe? Plans for the future? Cooking recipes?"

"You are the Dragonborn," one of the soldiers blurted out.

"What?" he turned to him and the backed away.

"The D..Dragonborn," the soldier repeated. "In the oldest tales, back from there still were dragons in Skyrim, the Dragonborn would slay dragons and steal their power. I mean...that's what you did, isn't it? Absorbed its power?"

"I doubt it, he sneered. "I couldn't care less about your legends."

"Try shouting," he encouraged. "That's the only way you know."

"I don't have the energy to shout," he grabbed his sword and headed towards the city.

"But...according to the legends, only the Dragonborn can Shout without training," the soldier pestered him. "You know, like the dragons do."

"Want me to try it on you?" J'Ziir snapped and the soldier backed away. He seethed his sword and continued his way towards Whiterun. Irileth ran after him and grasped his arm.

"The Jarl needs to know what happened here," she said. "You go better go to him."

"I don't like being told what to do," he yanked his hand away. "Besides I think he already knows. He and his court ladies had front row seats to this little charade. I bet he had quite spectacular view from the shelter of his stone walls."


	11. Chapter 11

11.

"What just happened?" Lydia cried out as she peeked under her fingers.

"He...he killed the dragon," Hrongar muttered, not really believing his eyes. But there it was. The skeleton of the beast laid bare on the ground beneath them. "By himself. And then..."

"He's the Dragonborn," Jarl Balgruuf stated. "The legend of Skyrim, slayer of dragons."

"The Dragonborn?" Hrongar exclaimed before chuckling aloud. "He is a Khajiit! How can he be the legend of the Nords?"

"We do not know what the Gods intend," Jarl Balgruuf noted and glanced at his brother. "He is here now. And he is exactly what this land needs."

The Jarl and his brother turned and walked back to the Reach, still talking, still debating. They exchanged some harsh words and their voices echoed and bounced around in the quiet city. Sura and Lydia stood on the stone walls. They were both quiet and solemn. They both remembered the dragon they had seen in the mountains. This dragon, that now lay dead in the plains of Whiterun, wasn't as menacing and big, but it wasn't small and puny either. And now this one man, one Khajiit, had killed it.

He was walking back to the city. Sura could see that he was incredibly tired and exhausted, and more than likely hurting as well. His posture was weak and he leaned forward, with every step it seemed that he was about to fall over. She felt sorry for him and found compassion in her heart, despite his harsh words. She remembered what he had said about his family. If his family was dead, that explained some of his anger. But she wondered did he realize what kind of power that rage gave to him. He defeated this dragon by using that anger to his advantage.

He was almost at the main gates when the world suddenly shook around them. A loud sound, like a thunder, rolled down the mountains, over the plains, the rivers, the fields. The water in the rivers shook and small waves hit the shores. The leaves in the trees trembled and the birds took flight towards the clear sky. It only lasted for a moment, but it was powerful enough to be heard all over Skyrim. Sura and Lydia glanced at each other.

"Could it be...?" Sura whispered.

"The Greybeards," Lydia confirmed her suspicions.

They hurried back to the Dragonsreach. The Jarl was calming and waiting for the hero of the battle. Hrongar was very nervous and walked back and forth in front of the wooden doors. When they finally opened and the bruised and battered man stepped inside, he raised his hand, took a step closer and handed something to him. It was a strange exchange. Hrongar spoke with a soft, low voice and Sura didn't hear what he said. It seemed to be something important she could see it from their faces. Eventually, Hrongar turned and took his place next to his brother. The tired Khajiit stood at by the doors for a while. He looked at something that was resting in his palm. He closed his fist and sighed. He seemed relieved like he just discovered a part of himself he thought was lost forever. Finally, he noticed where he was and cleared his throat. He tucked something in the pocket of his armor and walked forward.

"The dragon is dead, as I'm sure you know," he said to the Jarl. "Hand over the gold so we can get this over with."

"Yes, I know," Jarl Balgruuf nodded. "This city owes you everything. But before I give you your reward, there is another thing I must speak with you."

J'Ziir frowned. He should have known there was something else. If he wasn't so tired, he might have had the energy to argue with the Jarl, demand his gold and leave. He didn't need any more missions, any more monsters to kill. He was lucky he survived two dragons.

"We all heard the summons," the Jarl looked at him. "What else could it mean? The Greybeards...you heard it too, didn't you?"

"Enough with the riddles!" J'Ziir sighed.

"But you must have heard it," Lydia blurted out and J'Ziir glared at her. She blushed, grimaced and lowered her gaze. "The sound that traveled like a thunder. They called out for you," she finally mumbled under her breath.

"Me?" J'Ziir pointed himself and sneered. He seemed very amused by the idea. The familiar crazy smirk rose to his face. "Why would anyone call out for me?"

"Because you are apparently the Dragonborn!" Hrongar insisted. "As difficult as that is to believe…"

"This again," J'Ziir rolled his eyes and yawned. "Look, all I want is my gold. And then I'll be on my way. Is that so hard to understand?"

"I understand you," the Jarl nodded. He smiled and his tone of voice slowed down like he was trying to explain something difficult to an impatient and small child. "But allow me to explain. The Greybeards are Masters of the Way of the Voice. They live in seclusion high up in the on the slopes of the Throat of the World. The Dragonborn is said to be uniquely gifted in the Voice. The ability to focus your vital essence into a Thu'um, a Shout."

"This doesn't interest me…"

"If you really are Dragonborn, they can teach you how to use your gift," the Jarl continued. "They Greybeards summoning the Dragonborn, this hasn't happened in centuries."

"So, what do you expect me to do?" J'Ziir asked. His voice was calm but it was deceiving. Anger bubbled under his peaceful exterior and the more the Jarl explained, the more annoyed he seemed.

"It would be wise to answer their call," the Jarl advised. "Whatever happened when you killed that dragon, it revealed something in you and the Greybeards heard it."

"How ironic, isn't it?" J'Ziir mocked. "Your precious Nord legend turns out to be a lowly Khajiit. A Khajiit who has no interest in your land or its problems."

"And yet, you killed the dragon," the Jarl smiled and didn't seem to be hurt by his words. "Even when you said you wouldn't."

"I did it for gold," J'Ziir snapped.

"Of course you did," the Jarl still smiled. "And you have indeed earned your reward. But I still encourage you to go to High Hrothgar. You should not ignore their wishes. It is a tremendous honor."

"Just pay me," J'Ziir said and his anger punctuated his words, each word was like a quick jab of a knife.

"You've done a great service to me and my city, Dragonborn," Jarl Balgruuf stood up from his chair. The word "Dragonborn" annoyed J'Ziir even more than the word "friend". "By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of Whiterun. It is the greatest honor that's within my power to grant."

Everyone in the hall was amazed by his decision. Whiterun didn't have many Thanes. Hrongar served his brother as a Thane and now, in front of all these people, the Dragonborn, a Khajiit, this stranger who just appeared a couple of days earlier was given the title. Hrongar stared at his older brother. He wasn't greedy; he could care less about titles. But if it was up to him, some gold would have been sufficient. There was no need to give out titles, give this stranger power in Whiterun when no one really knew what kind of a man he was. And since he didn't seem to want anything but gold.

Finally, Jarl Balgruuf broke the silence. He turned to Lydia, touched her shoulders and smiled at her. "My dearest niece. You hide your feelings well, but in the end, you are quite transparent. I know that deep in your heart you want to do right by your father and your late mother. But it's your life, Lydia. I hope one day you will understand and forgive me for what I'm about to do."

"My Jarl?" Lydia uttered. "What…do you mean..?"

"Dragonborn!" Jarl Balgruuf turned to J'Ziir. "I assign you Lydia, my niece, as a personal housecarl," he pushed Lydia gently towards him. "And I give you this weapon from my armory to serve you as your badge of office," the Jarl handed him a massive battleax.

Sura swallowed. Lydia was frozen. With horror. With fear. With pure amazement. No one had expected this. Least of all J'Ziir. Slowly his eyes turned away from the Jarl and toward the dark-haired Nord woman who now stood in front of him. Lydia cleared her throat and straightened her back. She looked at the angry male Khajiit who was not just taller than she but also much, much stronger. And at this moment, her Thane was not only furious but filled with frustration.

"I don't need your titles," J'Ziir snarled. "I'll take the ax and the gold, but keep your fancy names. And I certainly don't need a nuisance like her following me around."

"I have made my decision," the Jarl said, sat down and faced Lydia. "He is your Thane now. You do whatever he tells you to and you serve him the best you can. You protect him and all he owns with your life."

"Are you serious?" Hrongar fumed. "Brother!"

"Calm yourself," Jarl Balgruuf soothed his younger sibling. "Someday you will understand."

"My Thane" Lydia stuttered and bowed to J'Ziir. "…I am your sword and your shield…"

J'Ziir didn't even glance at her, he stared at the Jarl. Then he spun on his heels and stormed out of the longhouse. Lydia hesitated for a moment, shot a shocked look at Sura, grabbed her gear and ran after him. Hrongar tried to stop her, say something to his daughter, maybe forbid her for following him, but she was already on the other side of the longhouse and with a loud boom the door slammed shut behind her.

She didn't waste time as she ran after her new Thane. She was a rational woman, able to adapt and the Jarl's decision didn't worry her too much. She felt strangely giddy like this was some new, exciting adventure and her boring life in Solitude as a mother and housewife could wait a little longer. To Oblivion with that, she thought. She wasn't that excited to get married and couldn't care less if Hadvar had to wait for an eternity. This was more important now. This was the Dragonborn. The greatest man - a legend - that roamed the lands of Skyrim ever since Tiber Septim himself. Even the mighty Ulfric Stormcloak, who claimed to be the next High King of Skyrim, was below this man. She saw him at the bottom of stone stairs and had to quicken her pace. How embarrassing would it be if she misplaced her Thane on her first day?

"My Thane!" she screamed. "My Thane!"

She was coming down at high speed and when he suddenly stopped and turned around, she almost crashed right into him. In the last possible moment, she pulled her shield in front of her. A thousand images whistled through her head and in all of them she managed to kill her Thane and the hero of Skyrim with a shield bash to the head. That was even worse than the thought of losing him in the crowd.

"Don't call me that!" J'Ziir grit his teeth. "Lower your voice and go back where you came from. I have no need for you."

"But I'm sworn to your service," Lydia repeated. "I'm your swords and your..."

"I heard that already," J'Ziir interrupted him. "What are you exactly? A slave? A mindless creature that follows whatever you're told!"

"A slave?" Lydia was shocked. "No, I'm your housecarl!"

"I don't have a house or a property you can guard. You claim you are sworn to my service," J'Ziir circled her. His silent movements made her uncomfortable. "It seems I don't need to pay you. You follow me around, and you do what I tell you. And you," he stopped in front of her and leaned a little closer. "Satisfy my every need, is that right?"

Lydia took a step back and blushed. Physical, intimate contact wasn't something nobles usually asked from their housecarl. And personal relations were banned during her service time. Her main priority was her Thane, his wellbeing, and safety. But what if her Thane demanded this...intimacy from her? Could she then refuse? No one ever explained these things and she of all people couldn't have imagined becoming a housecarl in the first place.

"Tell me," J'Ziir sneered. Despite his tiredness and resentment, he was now slightly amused. It was quite entertaining to see the emotions on her face. Not that he had any intentions or interest to ask her such favors, but since this woman was now determinant to follow him, it might be easier to scare her away. "If I were to ask you to my bed, no…not ask, order you to share my bed, how is that any different from being a slave?"

She didn't reply. She could say she wouldn't do it, but that might anger him even more. And telling him she would, even against her will…what would that say about her? He sighed. His voice was now softer when he spoke. "So, you can't answer? Because there is no difference, is there?"

"I'm your housecarl," Lydia mumbled. "If you truly make such demands of me…maybe we can…discuss it, not rush into it. And a slave usually doesn't wish to protect her owner. But that's the main duty of a housecarl. A slave wants freedom; a housecarl only wishes to serve."

"Owner? J'Ziir repeated her words. He was astonished. He couldn't believe that this woman was actually willing to lower herself like this. If he understood her right, she was even going to bed him if demand for it. The thought of it disgusted him. "Now I'm your owner?"

"I..didn't mean it like that," Lydia stumbled.

"Aren't you ashamed?" J'Ziir asked. "To serve me, as you so elegantly put it?"

"What do you mean, my Thane?" she raised her eyes. "Of course not! You are the Dragonborn! Not everyone has the chance to serve the Dragonborn..."

"Stop doing that!" he shouted. "Using that title..."

"What should I call you then, my Thane?" she inquired. "If I can't call you a Thane, then Dragonb…"

"I don't care about that," he waved his hand. "Your endless legends and heroes. Keep them to yourself. But you are a proud Nord woman. Yet, here you stand. In service of a cat!"

"What about it?" Lydia asked and now it was her time to be confused. "I don't hate the Khajiits. My closest friend is a Khajiit. She is one the best people I know. I think it's an honor to serve you, my Tha…Dragonb…ugh…"

"An honor?" J'Ziir said. "You think dying for someone else is honorable? Don't you have any self-respect? Don't you want to live your own life?"

"This is my life now," Lydia answered. "To serve and to protect you."

He looked at her suspiciously and took a few steps back. He pulled out his sword and threw it aside. He was wearing his tattered armor that hung loosely on his muscular frame. It offered little protection if any.

"You wish to protect me?" he questioned her. "Then let's see what you can do. Attack me!"

"What?" Lydia stuttered. "But you are...unarmed, my Thane! And without a proper armor! I could seriously injure you."

"Are you disobeying me already?" he smiled mockingly. "That was quick. Didn't you just say yourself that you were...what was it? Sworn to my service? To do whatever I tell you to!"

"It's not my duty to hurt you!" she tried to reason with him.

"Attack me!" he ordered again. "If you don't, I might just attack you myself. If your Thane attacks you, do you defend yourself or let him kill you? Is dying in his hands as part of your duty?"

She glanced towards the sky and whispered: "Gods, forgive me!" Then she gripped her sword and charged at him. She clearly remembered the bandit whose head she cut off. She only hoped this battle wouldn't end the same way. To kill the Dragonborn...

He was quick, amused, almost laughing and dodged her sword easily. For a moment they danced around the Wind District, she waved her sword around and he evaded or blocked her every try. People began to gather around, Heimskr shut his mouth and guards stopped their patrols. She was getting tired now, her breath quickened and her heart started to pound against her chest. Now she tried to her best, she wasn't even thinking of taking it easy, all she wanted was to get one clear hit at him. Just to prove herself. Just to wipe that mocking smile off his face. But he was too fast, tempted her, laughed at her and ridiculed her.

Using her last strength she charged ahead and the tip of her sword brushed his long ears as he crouched. She didn't see him coming from her right side but she recognized the pain and his iron grip as he bent her wrist and forced her to the ground. She dropped her shield and felt his sharp claws against her skin.

"So," he concluded. "This is the kind of protection you are offering. If there were enemies I would have died long ago while you just swing your sword around aimlessly. Not even one clear strike. Pathetic."

"If this was for real, I would have done better," Lydia claimed. "No way would I have let you die!"

"Go back where you came from," he released her hand and stood up. "I have enough problems without you."

He picked up his sword and the pain pummeled his body. He was about to fall over. Black spots danced around his eyes, but pushed the people aside and walked down the stone stairs. Lydia jumped to her feet, grabbed her sword and shield and looked around.

"Thane!" she yelled but her voice was weak. "I'm your...sword and...your...shield..."

He walked to the Bannered Mare and was about the rent the same room he had before. As he took out his coin purse, the owner smiled and shook her head.

"No need to pay," she said. "You saved our city. Every time you wish to stay here, it's free from now on. Boys!" she yelled. "Get some hot water upstairs!"

J'Ziir was wary - the word "free" didn't belong in his vocabulary. But he didn't wish to argue either; he was way too tired for that. He followed the men as they carried the bathtub upstairs and filled it with water. The owner brought some food, smiled and left.

He tossed his broken armor the bed and saw the shining, old gold chain hanging from one of the pockets. He had almost forgotten that. He reached out and rummaged through the shreds of his old armor. The golden pendant gleamed in his hand.

He took off the rest of his clothes, sat down in the warm water and leaned his head against his hand. The necklace was inside his fist and he felt utter relief that it was returned to him. Jarl's brother had given it to him. Hadvar found it. Amongst the rubble and destruction, he managed to discover it. The Nord was on his way to Solitude. They might never see each other again. But the necklace seemed to be important and the soldier felt it needed to be returned to its rightful owner.

He remembered when it was taken from him. Lying unconscious in the wagon, among the other prisoners. His clothes, his weapons, his jewelry. They were all stripped from him.

He slipped the necklace over his head and as soon as the crescent moon touched his skin, the pain from his body was lifted and peace surrounded him. Even his anger and hate momentarily subsided. He could almost hear his father's voice, telling some old story and his mother and sister laughing together.

The bad memories always followed the happy ones. As he lived through that sunny autumn day, again and again, the peace disappeared and the hatred once again took over. He opened his eyes and looked at the war ax that was leaning against the bed frame. Would that be enough? He thought. One clean hit and Ulfric's head would roll on the floor. And what would happen after that...well, that just didn't matter anymore.


	12. Chapter 12

12.

In the days that followed Sura didn't see Lydia very often. And when they did meet, Lydia was always in a hurry. Most of the time she was searching for her Thane. Somehow J'Ziir managed to lose her again. But she turned out to be quite tenacious and despite his efforts to avoid her, she somehow always found him again.

Hrongar was still angry and unsatisfied by the Jarl's decision and he used every chance he got trying to get his brother to change his mind. Hrongar tried to question his daughter and find out what she thought about her new position as a housecarl. Lydia remained silent, she never said anything about her Thane or the way the Khajiit treated her. Hrongar was unarmed. And as time passed by, he slowly began to give up. But he kept his eyes on his daughter and on the new Thane of Whiterun whenever he had the chance. And he certainly wasn't the only one.

Irileth was also annoyed by the Jarl's decision. She seemed to think that Whiterun didn't need another troublesome Khajiit. Once again Sura wondered when had she actually caused any troubles in Whiterun but Irileth was suspicious of everything and everyone. The situation seemed to bother the housecarl and whenever she saw J'Ziir - he rarely came to Dragonsreach - she was always on her toes.

Sura remembered J'Ziir's plans. At one point he mentioned leaving the city and heading to Windhelm. But days passed and he remained in Whiterun. Lydia slept in the guard's barracks; she had her own bed there while J'Ziir remained in Bannered Mare. The word spread that Hulda didn't ask any gold from him since he was the "savior of the city".

After a while life in Whiterun normalized and J'Ziir was suddenly considered a permanent resident in the city. No one wondered why he was in Whiterun, people knew of him and many were grateful to him. One particular person was Carlotta's daughter, Mila. She seemed ecstatic whenever she saw him at the Market. And in her company, his grumpy exterior temporarily faded away. He joked with her, he laughed with her and sometimes he even played hide and seek with her. He always knew where she was, his hearing and eyesight were superior compared to the Nords. Yet he always pretended he didn't know where she was hidden. And over and over again she ran out from her hiding place giggling and snickering.

It was one of those days when Sura and Lydia briefly met in the Market. J'Ziir was playing around with Mila and Lydia joined Sura as she came down from the Wind District.

Sura had some free time and she was on her way to Jorrvaskr but decided to stop by in the Market. She met Tilma in the Wind District and the old woman was on her way to get some vegetables from Carlotta. Sura assured her that she would get what she needed. She was on her way to the Market anyway and it was no problem to drop the supplies to Jorrvaskr on her way back. She also wanted to return the book she borrowed from Vilkas. She read through the whole thing, three times actually. To her great disappointment, there was nothing else in the book that seemed interesting, familiar. She was willing to admit it was quite extraordinary to find a Khajiit mage in the College of Winterhold but other than that, the mage's work or his studies didn't strike her that interesting. But he mentioned that he was willing to help if she needed it. There were few things she wanted to ask from him and that was one of the reasons she wanted to help Tilma that day.

Lydia waved her hand when she saw her. Sura stopped at Carlotta's stand, gave her Tilma's list and smiled to Lydia. Then they both looked at Mila and J'Ziir.

"He looks like a different person," Sura said. "How can he be so patient with Mila and be so intolerable with others?"

"I think something bad happened to him," Lydia looked at her. "In his past. Something he cannot forget or forgive. Maybe he lost someone important."

"How are you doing?" Sura asked Lydia. "Has it been difficult?"

"Don't ask," Lydia shook her head. "He is impossible. And he has this weird image in his head that I hate and loathe him. That he is somehow beneath me. Sometimes he just spits out angry words at me. So far...I have been able to ignore them. When you hear it a lot, it sort of loses its meaning."

"How come he is still in Whiterun?" Sura wondered and thanked Carlotta when she handed her the groceries. "Wasn't he heading to Windhelm? Or to High Hrothgar to meet the Greybeards?"

"He doesn't really care about being the Dragonborn," Lydia sighed. "I keep telling him that we should go! The Greybeards are important. But he ignores me completely. He is not interested to play the part of a big hero. And he doesn't care for the people of Skyrim."

"Well, there is one person he seems to care about," Sura smiled when she heard Mila's laughter.

"I'm glad that he is the Thane of our city," Carlotta said and looked at her daughter and the Khajiit. "He convinced Mikael to leave me alone. He can be very scary when he wants to be. And let me tell you - if he was interested in me, I might consider it."

"What?" Sura giggled. "You'd be actually willing to marry him?

"To be the wife of the Dragonborn," Carlotta laughed. "What's the downside?"

Sura glanced at J'Ziir. When he wasn't angry or hateful or moody, he actually looked a lot more amiable. And now that he was also clean his black fur was thick and shiny. The ragged, dead silent man she had seen arrive some time ago in Whiterun wasn't the same man that she saw here today.

"What about you, Lydia?" Carlotta teased. "You are his housecarl. Don't you feel tempted to try?"

"Like you just said, I'm his housecarl," Lydia rolled her eyes. "And he hates me. So, let's not even go there."

They looked the girl and the Khajiit for a while and then Sura bid goodbyes to Carlotta and Lydia. She took the vegetables, the book and headed toward Jorrvaskr.

Again, it was eerily empty. Only Tilma gathered some dishes from the huge tables and Sura handed her the vegetables and the rest of the gold. She smiled and thanked her. Before the old woman went about her business, Sura asked her about the Companions. To her great disappointment Tilma told her that all of them were out and she couldn't say exactly where they were and when they would return.

Sura looked at the book. She was tempted to take it downstairs herself. Maybe she could leave it to his table and be done with it. She didn't think too long because then she would only start hesitating. She headed down the stairs and opened the door into an empty hallway. It was quiet and her steps echoed from the stone floor as she walked on. She came to his door, knocked and when there was no answer she tried the handle. The door was locked. Of course, it was. She considered leaving the book on a small drawer but maybe he wouldn't notice it.

Why are you making such a big deal out of this? She asked herself. It's only a book. I'm sure he won't lose his mind if he doesn't find it immediately when he comes back. Just take it back to Dragonsreach and give it to him when he returns. Problem solved.

She walked to the hallway and wanted to linger here for a little while longer. She sat down at a nearby table and started to browse through the book. Once again she opened the page with the familiar picture. At first, she had been absolutely certain it was the exact copy of her necklace. But now that she studied it better, she wasn't that sure anymore. There were some small differences but how many necklaces were there like this? She didn't want to hope too much. If it all turned out to be nothing, at least she wouldn't come crashing down too hard. There were a quill, an inkwell, and some paper on the table and without thinking too much, she grabbed them and began to write. Her handwriting was clear and recognizable and she wrote down everything she had in her mind at that moment.

She was immersed in her thoughts and didn't notice how an older man watched her from the other side of the hallway. His other eye was blind but he didn't need it to see clearly. He remembered the little Khajiit girl extremely well. And whenever the girl stopped by at Jorrvaskr he was pleased to see her.

There was something in her that was exceptional. Maybe that was one of the reasons he had protected her all those years ago. He had felt her little fingers on his thick, rough fur. She hadn't been afraid of him. Not him. But something else. She kept meowing on a small, weak voice, she looked straight ahead but didn't appear to see anything. Her blue eyes were blind, he saw only pain and sadness.

And underneath his beast form, he had felt a warm sensation, need to keep her safe. And he had done that, he had walked alongside her, guided her gently towards the closest city and made sure that other animals kept their distance. And when the Jarl's wagon came along, he had drawn back to the shadows and watched what would happen. Would they abandon the little girl or take her with them?

Hrongar's wife had been alive and both she and little Lydia wanted badly to take the girl along. Neither of them thought it was right to leave her on the side of the road. The Jarl agreed and he had been pleased to see that she was safe. He knew that she didn't remember anything about their meeting or about the events that had led her to the situation.

He had no idea how Sura ended up in that empty road, all alone, shocked and lost. But he did know was that she was important. Like the male Khajiit that arrived in Whiterun a few weeks ago. They were connected, their fates tied together. When the girl finally stood up, Kodlak Whitemane closed to door to his room. There were many things he needed to consider.

Sura looked at the note. Maybe it was too humoristic, too analytical, too factual, too revealing. It was too everything. If she was smart, she would take it, rip it apart and destroy it. She took a deep breath, folded the note between the pages, walked back to his door and placed the book on the floor. She so wanted to grab the note back and rip it so he wouldn't be able to find it at all.

Just walk away! She told herself, took a few steps back and turned around. Most of her life she had always waited and waited and hoped that things would somehow work themselves out. But in the past few weeks, she had done something. She had taken another step toward to the one man her heart desired.


	13. Chapter 13

13.

Jarl Balgruuf looked with calm eyes at the man who was standing in front of him. He looked as displeased as always but this time he was rather clean and wearing an intact armor. His housecarl stood a few steps behind him and stared at the floor.

"Take her back!" J'Ziir demanded. "I have no use for her. She gets in the way and almost got us killed already. She doesn't know how to use her weapons or how to move her feet. She doesn't have any consideration and she rushes into battles like a blind mammoth."

"My Thane..." Lydia started.

"You keep your mouth shut!" J'Ziir snapped at her.

"I'm sorry but it's out of my hands," the Jarl said. "She is your housecarl now."

"That means I can release her from my service, right?" J'Ziir asked. "How do I put it? Give this woman her brain back?"

Jarl Balgruuf ignored his harsh words but Hrongar frowned angrily. He didn't like to hear how this man mocked his only daughter. Surely Lydia wasn't that incompetent. She had trained with the guards for years. She trained with the Companions. Hrongar refused to believe that his daughter wouldn't be able to match the Dragonborn.

"It's never been done before," Jarl Balgruuf contemplated. "But it's up to you. Do what you think is best."

"Excellent," J'Ziir nodded and turned to Lydia. "You hear that? You are no longer in my servitude, woman. Do whatever you want and go where ever you want. It was fun while it lasted."

"What?" Lydia blinked, looked at him and then she glanced the Jarl. "Can he...really do this?"

"Like I said, it's up to him," the Jarl nodded.

"This is best for you, daughter," Hrongar assured her. "It's time to concentrate on other things now."

"Well, that worked out perfectly then," J'Ziir smiled, turned and walked out of the longhouse. Finally, he thought. I got rid of her. Now I can focus on other things. Important things. He reached the Gildergreen and then he heard hurried steps behind him. What! he groaned in his mind. What is she thinking?

He turned and saw Lydia running after him. She was panting when she got to him. He studied her, trying to determine was she really this stupid? Stubborn? Deaf even? She straightened her back, stood next to him and looked at him with anticipation in her eyes.

"What are you doing?" J'Ziir asked after a while.

"Serving you, my Thane," she replied.

"Didn't I just release you from my service?" he asked angrily.

"Yes," she nodded. "But you also gave me free will, gave me my brains back, as you so eloquently put it. You said I can go wherever I want and do whatever I want. And that's what I'm doing. Following you, my Thane. Voluntarily."

"Have you lost your mind?" J'Ziir shouted. "What don't you understand? I don't need you! I don't want you around me!"

"Nevertheless," she swallowed. "I'm going to stay by your side, my Thane."

J'Ziir rubbed his face. This was impossible. She was tenacious and stuck to his side like a blood-hungry leech. He slapped her, called her names, insulted her, and did everything in his power to make her hate him. And yet, she remained. He watched her and tried to understand why she was acting like this. He hadn't given her any reason to stay beside him.

"Why do you want to stay?" he finally asked.

"Well, you are the Dragonborn," Lydia smiled. "I wouldn't want to miss out on your adventures."

"There's more to it than that," J'Ziir speculated. "What are you avoiding? Are you in love with me?"

Lydia raised her eyes. The utter surprise and the shock in her face were so genuine that the male Khajiit shook his head. "Guess not," he grunted.

"My Thane," Lydia started. "I only wish to help you."

"But are not helping," J'Ziir said.

"Please," Lydia grabbed his arm almost desperately. "Just let me stay. At least for a while longer. It's the only way I can…"

"What?" J'Ziir glanced at her.

"Alright," Lydia pouted. "You want to know the truth? I'll tell you then! I don't want to get married! And if being with you for the rest of my days prolong that wait, then that's the way it's going to be!"

"Married," J'Ziir smirked. "You're getting married?"

"I'm not married yet," she stated sternly. "And until I am, I'm going to be your housecarl. That's it."

He was increasingly annoyed by her presence but it seemed he wasn't able to do anything about it. And he had to admit, he was a bit curious. Who in their right mind would agree to marry this woman? If he could save the fellow from such a cruel fate, he might just keep her with him a little while longer. He was stuck with her, at least for now. Fine, he thought. Let her stay. Let her run all the insignificant errands and other small things. Let her feel that she is important so maybe you can then separate as friends later on.

"Alright then," he sighed. "What does a housecarl do?"

"Like I said," Lydia smiled and was barely able to contain her joy. "I'm sworn to your service. I protect you and all you own with my life. If you were to buy a house, I would take care of it, keep it clean, cook you dinner and..."

"In other words," J'Ziir leaned a little closer. "A slave and a wife in the same package. Is that what you want? Play little house, take care of my home? Massage my shoulders when I get back from an adventure and patch my trousers? Cook me some dinner and maybe..."play" a little later on?"

"I didn't mean that," Lydia cringed. "Stop twisting my words, J'Ziir. You know what I mean."

"So it's no longer "my Thane" or "the Dragonborn"," J'Ziir laughed. "Now we are on a first name basis, hmm?"

"Is there anything you would want for me to do, my Thane?" Lydia ignored his words and followed him to the Market district. They stopped at Carlotta's vegetable stand and J'Ziir smiled to the owner. He turned to Lydia and nodded.

"Yes there is, housecarl," he grinned. "Fetch me some ale. And not from the Bannered Mare. From the Drunken Huntsman. They have better drinks there."

"Yes, my Thane," Lydia sighed and reached out her hand. "I need some gold. I'm getting it for you so you don't expect me to pay, do you?"

J'Ziir handed his coin purse and then faced Carlotta again. Surprisingly talking with the vegetable merchant was rather enjoyable and she was easy on the eyes. And he liked the little girl, every time he looked at her, she reminded him more and more of Zahraji.

As Lydia headed towards the Drunken Huntsman, Sura walked out of Arcadia's Cauldron. It was another one of those days when she was heading towards the plains. Arcadia didn't need anything too difficult or exotic today. She looked around hoping to find Lydia but her friend was nowhere to be seen. When she noticed J'Ziir she wondered would he be interested to come with her in the plains.

Sura greeted him. At first, he barely glanced at her, but then he shifted his eyes from Carlotta to her. His gaze lingered on her hair, on her face, and on her eyes. He looked at her, she felt like she was being studied. Normally such attention would have made her rather uncomfortable, but there was only simple curiosity in his eyes.

"Where are you headed?" Carlotta asked. "Let me guess. Something to do with Arcadia?"

"Yes," Sura nodded. "She needs some ingredients again. Seems most of her recipes aren't that reliable. She uses lots of stuff on nothing."

"I agree," Carlotta leaned against her table. "But sometimes her concoctions work quite well. Remember when she created that hangover potion? Weren't all the men in Whiterun ecstatic about that?"

Sura laughed. "I think Torvar bought more than one bottle. After a while, the effect seemed to disappear. And once again, he was cursing his headaches. And Arcadia."

"Are you going alone?" J'Ziir asked suddenly. "It's not very safe."

"Lydia usually comes with me," Sura said. "But I don't know where she is. And she's your housecarl now, so I can't bother her that often. I wouldn't want to steal her away from her duties."

"Steal her, whenever you want", J'Ziir said plainly.

"What about you? Do you have anything to do?" Sura asked him. "Want to come along?"

He was about to decline, say something snide and insulting. But there was something about her that fascinated him. Something so curious and strange, something familiar but also very foreign. His mind told him that he simply wanted to find something, something that would put his mind at ease. She reminded him of her, of Zahraji, and he needed to clear the doubts in his mind.

"Sure," he heard himself say. "Why not."

Sura's eyes widened. She had expected him to turn her down. He always seemed too harsh and unyielding; it was very hard to find any softness in him. But the way his eyes studied her again convinced her otherwise. There was something gentle in him, maybe even compassion, but he kept it well hidden.

"Be safe," Mila yelled after them. "And bring me some nice flowers!"

They didn't exchange words when they exited the main gate. They were both silent, but it was a rather comforting silence. She knew he came with her for a reason. There was something he wanted to ask. And she was willing to wait until he found the right words. They headed towards the plains and Sura looked around to find the blue and the purple mountain flowers. She also needed some Nirnroots and she located them rather easily because of their unique sound. They passed Honningbrew Meadery and ascended a little higher. She recognized thistle branches easily and picked some of the flowers.

"You don't remember your family?" J'Ziir tossed the question to her like it was nothing more than regular boring small talk. He didn't even look at her when he asked it.

"No", she replied but didn't elaborate.

"Lydia mentioned it", he continued like she asked for an explanation. "You don't remember your past either?"

"No," Sura repeated. "Why do you ask?"

J'Ziir didn't reply. He turned away from her and then he spun around, once again staring at her. It was so eerie. She looked so much like her. Those eyes, that face. It could not be a coincidence and yet, she could not be here. It was impossible.

"You don't remember anything at all?" he continued. "How long have you lived in Whiterun?"

"A long time," Sura continued on. She had all of the ingredients but this was getting very interesting now. He clearly wanted something from her but he wasn't sure himself what that "something" was.

"How many years? Ten? Maybe longer?" J'Ziir followed her down the mountainside.

"Why don't tell me what you're after," Sura stopped and looked at him. "Who are trying to find? Someone from your family?"

"They're dead," J'Ziir stated with an emotionless voice. "Like I told you before."

"What's this about then?" Sura asked.

"How did you get to Whiterun?" J'Ziir ignored her questions. "And where were you before that?"

"Who are you looking for?" Sura insisted.

"You remind of a dead person," J'Ziir whispered but he was talking to himself more than to her. "She's gone. I buried her along with the others. Every memory of her I let go. She's not supposed to be here. Linger on this mortal plain. In the shape of another. Now, …it's like…she's standing here, right in front of me. And doesn't even know me. It's not…it's not right…not fair!"

"It's not me you're looking for", Sura lowered her gaze.

"I know," J'Ziir turned to her. "I just need to be sure."

"You asked me do I remember anything," Sura took a deep breath. "Not really, no. But there's something that I'm hoping might eventually lead me to somewhere. To someone…"

She wanted to show him the jewel she always carried around her neck. He wasn't around here, maybe he had seen a picture of it or maybe someone mentioned it during his travels. She lowered her basket to the ground and opened the highest button on her dress. But before she had a chance to pull the necklace out, a cold, husky, cynical voice interrupted them.

"Well, well! Look at this, boys. A little furry soldier boy and his pet cat taking a walk outside."

J'Ziir grabbed Sura's arm and pushed her behind him. A group of men stood on the road. The man who had spoken seemed to be the leader of the rabble. Except he was no man. He was one of the biggest Orcs she had ever seen. He was tall and muscular, his skin was dark green, and his tusks were huge and sharp. He was wearing tough iron armor and a massive orcish sword hanged from his waist. Sura swallowed and felt fear grip her heart. J'Ziir still stood in front of her but she could clearly see that they were outnumbered. The Orc had six sturdy men standing around him and they all grinned sarcastically.

"Get them, boys!" the Orc ordered.

The men pulled out their swords and axes and rushed forward. J'Ziir wasn't a rookie, he'd been in many battles, he knew how to use his sword and defend himself. The first two men soon lay in the ground moaning and bleeding. Sura realized that she couldn't just stand around doing nothing. She tossed her basket aside and in the midst of the chaos tried to clear her mind and gather the energy she needed to either use one of her destruction spells or conjure a possible flame atronach to help them. She backed away from the fighting men and concentrated.

But she failed to see the big Orc. He came right at her, he was incredibly fast, and before she could use her spell and release her destructive energy, he grabbed her arm, spun her around and tossed her against the nearest pine tree. She felt the pain in her body, it pierced through her head and she screamed. Her vision began to blur but she crawled up to her feet.

The Orcs strong hand pressed against her neck and he lifted her whole body against the tree trunk. She tried to claw his hand but he only laughed and his blood red eyes gleamed dangerously. She couldn't breathe and she tried to kick him but he was too strong.

"Give up, cat!" the Orc yelled. "Or I'm going break this little fleabags neck!"

J'Ziir was not used to situations where he had to think others than himself. His first instinct and the first logical order his brain gave to him was to ignore her. Let him kill her! His own survival was more important to him. But as his eyes landed to her face, he felt a tight knot somewhere down in his belly. It was worry. Concern. Fear for someone else. He didn't know why he cared for her, but it was dangerous and as soon as he felt it, he knew they were in deep trouble.

"Let her go!" J'Ziir snarled. He momentarily moved his attention away from the others. A huge mistake, he later realized. A rookie's mistake, something he never did. A massive war hammer came down in his back and made him fall to his knees. He groaned, pain swallowed him, embraced him like an old friend. "Here I am again", it whispered. "Thought you got rid of me for good. Well, sorry to disappoint!" He gritted his teeth, his claws sunk into the ground and he tried to get up. He completely forgot his Thu'um and the fact that using it might have saved them both. But godlike powers never helped him before, he always relied on himself. Two strong men were immediately on him and they kept hitting and kicking him until he remained in the ground.

"Let her go," he demanded again but his voice was now low and hoarse.

"The Jarl of Whiterun knows us!" Sura wheezed and tried to kick the Orc. It was a long shot, not entirely true and threatening this creature might not be so wise but it was the only she could think off. "Let us go or face his wrath!"

"The Jarl himself!" the Orc laughed, removed his hand from Sura's throat and she dropped to the ground coughing and gasping for air. "Did you hear that, boys! The Jarl himself will hunt us down! What are we going to do now?"

The men chuckled and Sura knew she could hear their mocking laughter in her ears for the rest of her days. And the image of J'Ziir, beaten down, tired and bloodied. If she would survive this, she would always be grateful to him, because he had tried to save her, despite everything. He could have just run and forget her.

"Well, if this little fleabag is so important to the Jarl, why don't we send him a message?" the Orc chuckled. "Write it down!" he ordered and one of the men took some paper and quill from his knapsack.

"5000 gold coins," the Orc looked at Sura with his cruel eyes. "If he pays that, then he will get his housecat back...eventually."

Again, they all laughed. The Orc grabbed the paper from his man, read it through, pulled out a serrated dagger, wrapped it around it and then - Sura gasped. He lifted exhausted Khajiit to his knees and with one powerful strike he hit the dagger and the message to his left shoulder. J'Ziir roared with pain, got to his feet and swiped the Orc with his other hand, his sharp claws cutting deep. The Orc screamed with rage, grabbed him and tossed his body down the hill. Sura could only watch as he pumped down the sharp rocks and boulders. His body landed somewhere down there, she could barely see him now. Unmoving. Quiet. Badly injured, maybe even dead.

"Make sure the Jarl gets that!" the Orc shouted down. "Don't die on the way, cat!"

The Orc turned, his red eyes gleamed with lust and malice. She tried to crawl away, tried to get to J'Ziir. If nothing else, she wanted to make sure he was still alive.

"J'Ziir…" she wheezed. "Please..."

"Come on, cat!" The Orc picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. "You are going to be our pet now. Don't worry, I'll make sure you are going to enjoy your stay!"


	14. Chapter 14

14.

Lydia found him much later in the evening. She heard from Carlotta that J'Ziir actually accompanied Sura on the plains and she figured they would stay at least couple of hours, maybe even longer. So, she waited by the Market, talked with Yosolda, listened to her plans and hopes for the future. How she was someday going to buy the Inn from Hulda and how she would she would change it, add couple more rooms to the back and hire a better bard than Mikael.

Eventually, Lydia began to worry. The sun was starting to set but there was no sign of them. The main gate of the city was clearly visible from the Market and she was sure neither of them had slipped inside without her noticing. She waited around for another hour and then she decided to go after them. She didn't worry about her Thane, he seemed perfectly capable of taking care of himself. But she always accompanied Sura to the plains and not knowing where she was made her heart feel heavy in her chest. She grabbed her gear, her trusty sword, and her iron shield and left Whiterun at sundown.

At the stables, she stopped and gazed over the plains. She saw only guards on their patrols and she stopped one to ask had he seen the Dragonborn. After a while, he nodded and told her he'd seen him and the young Khajiit girl heading toward the Meadery and then up the mountain road. Lydia glanced up the road that led to Riverwood and saw no movement there. Still, if they headed that they, maybe she would come across them. She passed the Meadery and began to stroll up the rocky road, humming the familiar tune of "Ragnar the Red" as she went.

At first, she saw his arm. She was about to walk past him because a random arm peeking out of the bush indicated only that someone had a little too much to drink and passed out before reaching home. But then, as she slowed down, she saw his upper body, his tall, pointy ears and all at once she recognized him. She froze. The happy tune died on her lips. He lay there, next to a huge rock, partly covered by the leaves and the branches of a nearby bush. Within those few, fleeting seconds, Lydia imagined the worst. Sura was taken, dead. She would find her somewhere down the road, laying on her back, broken and mutilated, covered with blood, cuts all over her body. She shook her head, forced the violent images out of there and stumbled down the hill to where the unconscious man was lying.

"J'Ziir!" she breathed as she reached him. His body was warm and he was still breathing and her initial fear subsided. He was still alive, but barely. A jagged, bloodied dagger was stuck to his shoulder with a paper attached to it. "J'Ziir! Wake up! What happened to you?"

He mumbled something, words she could not understand. He was heavy and so she had no chance of getting him up on his feet and back to the Reach. She rummaged through her pockets and was relieved to find one small, red vial. Sura always insisted she carried it, just in case. And if this wasn't an emergency, then she didn't know what was.

She popped the cork open, tilted his head back and poured the liquid down his throat. He coughed and began to trash around and Lydia was relieved to see the potion worked.

"Raji…," he muttered between his coughs. "The Jarl...Orc…"

"J'Ziir, it's me!" Lydia tried to help him up.

"Took her…they took her!" he continued his ramblings and pressed his hand against his shoulder. With one swift pull, he yanked the dagger loose and grabbed the note in his trembling hand. He read it. It was shaking but now his arm shook with pure anger. The pain subsided, it was tolerable now.

"Get back to the city," he told Lydia and handed the note to her. "Tell the Jarl or whoever cares. Just get someone and come after me."

"What? But you can barely walk!" Lydia glared at him. "You need to see a healer, a priest…"

"She doesn't have much time!" J'Ziir pushed her aside and took a few faltering steps. "Go! I'll be fine!"

Lydia hesitated for a moment. She didn't understand the situation but eventually, she nodded, turned on her heels and began running towards the city. Halfway there she heard a loud, piercing whistle and a sturdy, brown mare galloped past her. She glanced behind her shoulder and saw him grab the reins and get on. She ran in her heavy armor. Sweat poured down her back but she didn't care. J'Ziir's words scared her beyond anything. "They took her." Who did and why? Where? All these questions popped in and out of her head as she rushed through the gates, up the stone stairs, and towards the Dragonsreach.

The Jarl was having a meeting with his Stewart as Lydia pashed in the door and hurried up the last steps. She could barely talk and before she could say anything, she bent over, leaned on her legs and took a few, deep breaths.

"Lydia" Jarl Balgruuf faced her. "What is happening? Why are you in such a hurry?"

"J'Ziir is hurt…I mean, the Dragonborn!" Lydia explained. She noticed the crumpled note in her hand and she handed it over to the Jarl. "He and Sura went to the plains, but something happened and he just told me to come and get help…and…"

"What is this?" Jarl Balgruuf rolled out the message that was wrinkled and barely readable smeared with bloodstains. As he made out the words, his face grew pale, he took a step back and sank to his chair.

"What is it?" Lydia panted. "What did it say?"

"Proventus," the Jarl turned to his steward. "Send someone to the Companions. I think we need their help."

Proventus nodded and dismissed himself. The Jarl crumbed the note in his hand and cursed to himself.

"My Jarl?" Lydia begged for information. "Please..."

"Sura...has been taken," the Jarl uttered and covered his eyes. "They demand 5000 gold coins for her. By the Gods..."

"Taken?" Lydia repeated and remembered J'Ziir's word "they took her". "By who? Why?"

"This shouldn't be happening," the Jarl murmured. "Our land shouldn't be this dangerous! How can this happen right on our doorstep?"

"What are we going to do?" Lydia stepped closer. "We can't just leave her!"

"Of course we can't and we won't," Jarl Balgruuf assured her.

Lydia couldn't stay still. She walked back and forth, back and forth. J'Ziir went after her, but maybe it was only because he felt he owed her. And he wasn't doing so well, one vial of the potion wouldn't be able to heal him completely. Lydia glanced the Jarl who sat in his chair, his forehead covered in deep wrinkles. What was it that he said? This shouldn't be happening. Lydia had always tried to keep Sura safe, but she had to admit that she dodged the headman's ax today. They could be both be dead she followed Sura to the plains today.

"Why wouldn't it happen?" J'Ziir's voice suddenly spoke inside her head. "Has the Jarl tried to make the roads safe for travelers? Do you know just how many bandit groups are out there? Do you know what they are capable of? Not just robbing and blackmailing...they do worse things than that. Especially to women."

"Be quiet!" she whispered to it. He chuckled and said no more. She tried not to think about it, but he was right. She couldn't bear to think what could happen to her dear friend. To her huge relief, her mood thoughts were interrupted. The door to the Dragonsreach swung open and the twin brothers, Vilkas and Farkas entered the reach. The Jarl lifted his gaze and stood up as he greeted them.

"What's happened?" Vilkas asked. "You summoned us for help."

"Sura has been taken," Jarl Balgruuf simply said. "I know she often visits Jorrvaskr and that most of you are fond of her. Apparently, she went to the plains, met with ill company and was…taken against her will."

"Why was she alone?" Vilkas asked. His voice was calm, but his eyes burned. "No one went with her?"

"The Dragonborn accompanied her," Lydia intervened. "But he was outnumbered and badly beaten. Despite all that, he went after them and ordered me here. I think he needs help. He wasn't doing so well."

"They are waiting for the payment in Mistwatch," the Jarl continued.

"That's in Eastmarch," Farkas nodded. "I know the place. Old, abandoned fort. No wonder the bandits favor it. It will take some time and effort to get there and get her out alive."

"How can you even be sure she's still alive?" once again J'Ziir's voice spoke inside Lydia's head. Why, oh why did he have to embody all her worst fears. "Maybe they are expecting the gold. Maybe. But in the meantime, they are going use her for their amusement. And when they get tired of her they might simply kill her."

"I'm coming with you!" Lydia looked at the brothers. "I'll meet you at the stables."

*

Her life was filled with pain.

She didn't want to see anything so she closed her eyes. She didn't want to hear anything so she tried to block her ears as well. She wanted to be invisible so she curled up in the darkest corner, pulled her legs against her chest and wrapped her arms around herself.

She could feel the sticky blood between her thighs and her whole body was aching and throbbing. Every movement caused pain. She was broken and shattered, smashed to pieces. Her left eye was swelled up and she couldn't see anything with it. Not that she wanted to.

She felt the cold stone floor against her bare skin. There were some dirty straws in the floor but as soon as they had thrown her in the cell, she had crawled to the farthest corner and only wanted to be alone. To die.

She heard their voices - his voice.

His laughter.

She hated it. She feared it. She loathed it. If she had any energy left, any will to fight she would have tried to claw his eyes out. Like she had tried when the Orc grabbed her, tore her clothes off and took what he wanted. She managed to rip three deep gashes in his face but he had only laughed and then knocked her out with his big fist. And when she came to her senses he had already done what he wanted and tossed her to another man.

She had lost the sense of time she didn't know was it night or day. But it didn't matter to her. Not anymore. All she wanted was to die. To leave this place, leave this world. Shivers ran down her spine when she listened to his steps. Was he coming closer? Was he going to hurt her again? Please...not again...not again...

She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged herself tighter. Her claws dig into her flesh but she didn't feel the pain. She only wished that he wouldn't come to her, that he would stay away, that somehow he wouldn't see her or be interested in her.

As she listened to his steps, she didn't hear the calming, gentle voice in her ear. But as his steps faded away, the voice became a little louder, not much but enough so that she could hear.

"They are coming to for you."

It was a woman's voice. And it was so familiar, so tender and so soft that tears pushed through her closed eyelids. She knew that voice, she had heard it many, many times before.

"Ma?"

The voice didn't have a face but she could remember her touch. Even her laughter. And her mother's arms that wrapped around her, comforting and protecting.

"Just a little longer, my dear. Wait just a little while. Soon you'll be safe."

She wanted to trust in her words, she wanted to believe that what she said was true. That someone was coming and would eventually take her away from this place. That someone would release her from this pain and agony.

"If he comes again and hurts me, I don't think I can take it. I don't think I can survive it…"

Like a warm spring wind sometimes turns back into brutally cold winter, the voice faded and was gone. Her hands began to tremble and she curled her tail around her legs. No, she prayed. Not him! But she could clearly hear his steps now. His steps that were coming closer and closer and closer. And when his big hand pulled the cell door open, she uttered a desperate cry and tried to get away from him. But her body was weak, it was cold and stiff and rigid. Every move made her groan.

"Hey little fleabag," the Orc laughed mockingly. "Got enough sleep? Ready for another round?"

"No!" she hissed and swung her other hand at him. "Don't touch me! Get away!"

"That's not very nice," the Orc grabbed her hand and pulled her closer so that her arm almost got dislodged. She cried out in pain but she couldn't match his strength and power. He seized her tail, wrapped it around his hand and she screamed the whole time. Finally, he pulled her out of the cell and with her last strength she dug her nails to the floors. White scratch marks were left in the stone as she was pulled towards the sarcastic laughter that echoed through the fort.


	15. Chapter 15

15.

They traveled through the night. Lydia, Vilkas, and Farkas left Whiterun late in the evening and headed towards East. They didn't talk much, the situation was too grave for some lighthearted conversation. Before they left, Lydia ran to her quarters in the guard barracks and stuffed as many potion bottles in her knapsack as she could find. Then she continued to the stables and found the brothers there, both ready and eager to leave.

Lydia sensed their worry because she shared it with them. She was grateful that J'Ziir stayed quiet for the rest of the night, she was in no mood for his nightmarish speeches. She followed the brothers. They knew Skyrim, had traveled all over it and she trusted they knew the way. They rushed through the forests over streams and shallow rivers. They chose the fastest way they could find.

Vilkas was deceivingly calm. He didn't talk, his answers to his brother were grunts and groans and his anger hung in the air like a giant thundercloud over his head. He wanted to hurt someone. Smash and kill and torture and tear to pieces.

Divines, please let her be alive, Lydia prayed. She waited to J'Ziir to say something and at first, he remained quiet. Then only one word rose to her mind. It floated upwards like a dead fish and it sent shivers down her spine once again. "Amusement". Lydia hated to admit it, but that could very well be true. Few creatures in Skyrim knew mercy or gave any to their enemies or victims.

As the dawn broke and the sun shone its first rays down the snowy mountains, they passed Darkwater Crossing. They only saw few guards making their rounds no one else seemed to be awake. They didn't stop, only passed through the small village and headed towards the old fortress. Soon they could see the tall round towers through the mist.

"Let's leave the horses here," Vilkas ordered. "We don't need to draw their attention yet. We'll make a plan and we work together."

"We don't know where she is," Lydia jumped to the ground. "And if they hear us coming, they might kill her. So we need to be very careful and stealthy."

"True," Vilkas agreed. "No need to risk her or anyone else. We go in, we get her and we get out. Clear?"

"So, how do we do this?" Farkas asked.

"We need to take a look around first," Vilkas said. "See how many of them are out in the yard. We need to take them out before they can sound an alarm. Get your bows ready."

"I already took care of the people outside," a familiar voice said behind them. They all spun around, weapons ready to strike.

"J'Ziir!" Lydia let out a sigh of relief. "You're here!"

"Like I said," J'Ziir crossed his arms. Lydia watched him as he walked closer. He seemed much better than the last time she saw him. She raised an eyebrow and wanted to ask how he was doing, but he noticed her mild concern and nodded.

"She is at the top. In the East tower," J'Ziir told them.

"You saw her?" Lydia grabbed his hand. "Was she alright?"

"Alive," J'Ziir stated.

"How do you know she's up there?" Vilkas asked.

"While I was waiting for you," J'Ziir looked at him. "I snuck in to take a look. They keep her in one of the cells. There are a lot of men up there and one really big, angry Orc. The leader. She's in bad shape so we shouldn't waste our time talking out here."

"You're right," Vilkas said. He could demand answers later. The most important thing was to get Sura back alive. "We need to move. Farkas, you're coming with me. Lydia, you go with him," Vilkas nodded towards J'Ziir and then looked at him under his eyebrows. "You said you took out most of the people in the yard. How many in the towers?"

"I took them all out," J'Ziir frowned. "I don't know how many there are inside but on the top floor, there are seven men and the big Orc. He has probably spread his men through the lower floors."

"Alright, is there more than one way in?" Vilkas asked.

"Just one, but the wall is quite easy to climb," J'Ziir said. "I'll go up there if the rest of you take care of the first floors."

"But can you handle the top floor by yourself?" Lydia frowned. "You were hurt pretty badly…"

"I killed a dragon," J'Ziir snapped. "I think I can handle a couple of witless bandits. I'll thank them for beating me up and return to favor."

"Fine," Vilkas nodded. "We'll take the first floors. But," he looked at J'Ziir and his eyes were filled with flames. "You leave the leader to me. Is that clear?"

"You'll get the part that's still breathing, if you're fast enough," J'Ziir shrugged his shoulder, turned and disappeared. Lydia, Farkas, and Vilkas pulled out their swords and approached the fort carefully. When they saw J'Ziir climbing over the high stone wall, they moved faster. There were nearly ten dead bodies lying around the yard. None of them were killed by arrows. Everyone one them had a deep, bloody gash in their throats. Lydia felt a little sick as she looked at them. J'Ziir wasn't playing around when he passed through here. A perfect night predator at his finest. Quiet, stealthy and deadly. All of these men were caught off guard and killed in mere seconds.

They ran over the shaky platform that leads to the first tower. The door creaked as Vilkas pushed it open with his sword. He took one step inside - then without a word ordered the others to follow him. The hallway curved towards the right and they checked every room and corner. There were only a few men on the first floor and they were easy to take out. They didn't pay attention to the bodies that were left behind.

Meanwhile, J'Ziir had snuck up near the large entrance of the top floor. The room was filled with men who were talking, drinking and laughing. He peeked around the corner and saw Sura in the small cell on the other side of the room. The girl didn't move, she was barely breathing. He scanned the room. There were no other exits, only two cells and one smaller room to the right.

He looked at the Orc and remembered Vilkas' words. If the Nord wanted to kill him, he didn't have any objections. Vilkas could finish him off, but that didn't mean he couldn't play around with him a little. Remind him that he delivered the message he wrote. You need to immobilize him, he told himself. So he can't move, so he can't hurt you or the girl anymore. The Orc was clearly the biggest threat in the room, the rest of the rabble were drunk, staggering morons who were barely able to stand let alone defend themselves.

He chose his targets, knew where he would hit them and anticipated their possible moves. And even if his prediction weren't always right, he was usually able to correct his moves in time. He pulled out his axes, the best weapons he could think of, tensed his body and prepared his muscles to move. Without warning, he rolled out from his hiding place and his ax hit the first man right where he wanted. It slashed his throat and at the same time, his second ax already carved its way into another man's skull. Before anyone could react and get their weapons, he already cut the hands off from the third man and wounded the fourth in his stomach.

When the sharp steel sword whizzed in the air next to his head, he bent down, rolled under his attacker and slashed his calves. As he fell down, he smashed his head in with the ax handle. In the corner of his eye he saw the big Orc moving, he got up from his seat, grabbed a huge war ax and charged forward. When he swung his ax, he rolled away in time. The huge blade smashed the floor right where his body was a few seconds ago.

Four men and the big Orc. He stood between them and the cells. The exit was behind them and he knew if he wanted to get out alive, he would have to fight his way through. This time he wouldn't be so careless. He wondered how far down Lydia and the others were.

Horrific screams and moans reached their ears when they were on the second balcony. Lydia glanced up, grabbed her sword harder and ran forward. Now she was not only worried about Sura but for her Thane as well. He was an excellent fighter, no doubt about that, but even he wouldn't last long if he was outnumbered. She didn't want to find him in the same condition as last night.

They experienced only weak resistance as they ran upwards. In one of the rooms they saw were five, sleepy bandits and Farkas urged the others to move on. They ran up the stairs and were almost ambushed by a group of men that heard them coming. Vilkas was on the edge of his patience and at that point, he didn't care about few cuts and slashes. He was brutal and merciless, he used his sword with expertise and precision. Farkas caught up with them as they were climbing upwards, through the trapdoor on top of the next tower. This was where they had seen J'Ziir climb up. They were almost at the top. Without hesitation, they ran forward. The door was ajar and an eerie silence greeted them as they climbed up the stairs. Near the entrance, they heard low moaning and soft cries.

Lydia entered the room first. The floor and the walls were filled with blood spatters, dead men lying all around. The big Orc leaned against the stone wall, his tendons cut off. He couldn't stand. The painful groans emanated from him and apparently the only one alive from the whole group.

J'Ziir was in one of the cells. He took one of the dirty sleeping bags and wrapped it around the unconscious girl. He lifted her in his arms and walked out of the cell.

"Sura!" Lydia yelled and ran to them. "Please...talk to me..."

"She's almost gone," J'Ziir said with a flat voice. "They treated her pretty poorly."

Vilkas lowered his sword and walked up to them. The anger melted away from his eyes, they were filled with deep regret and sadness. He raised his hand and touched her face, lightly and softly. Then he backed away and moved his eyes to the Orc.

"Take her away from here," he said and his eyes began to burn again. "We'll catch up with you. After we're done."

"She's quite weak," J'Ziir said. "I don't know can she'll last the journey back to Whiterun."

"Here," Lydia said, opened her knapsack and grabbed the first potion bottle she found. "I had a feeling we would need these. Come on, Sura...drink up, you'll feel better after this."

"Get going!" Vilkas ordered and took a few steps closer to the Orc.

J'Ziir nodded, pulled the girl closer and they headed towards the stairs. At the door, he looked back one last time saw Vilkas throw his sword to the ground. There was something giant rising behind him, the torches in the walls dimmed and the Orc was covered by a huge, black shadow. He heard low growling. It was deep and animalistic, like a brutal and bloodthirsty predator had suddenly gotten loose.

Lydia yanked his arm and as they descended the stairs, they could hear the Orc shrieking. His screams were filled with terror and fear. Before his roars were cut off, there was another sound, a terrifying roar that echoed through the hallways of the Mistwatch Fort.


	16. Chapter 16

16.

They arrived in Whiterun very late the next evening. Farkas and Vilkas gained and joined them near the city. They didn't explain what happened in Mistwatch and honestly, J'Ziir didn't want to know. It was enough that the girl was saved and the bandits were dead. They rode through the gates and up the stairs straight to Dragonsreach. The Jarl and Farengar were eagerly waiting for their return.

J'Ziir carried Sura to her room and the Jarl sent for Danica Pure-Spring. She arrived and they left Sura in her capable hands. Now they were all waiting in the longhouse. Vilkas and Farkas refused to return to Jorrvaskr before they knew how she was doing. Lydia was nervous and worried. She wanted to go see her friend and be by her side, but time and time again the priestess told her to wait. So she walked back and forth, biting her lower lip and glancing towards Sura's room every now and then.

The only one who didn't seem that interested was J'Ziir. He looked unconcerned but he listened very closely what everyone was saying. He didn't want the girl to die, he felt responsible for what happened to her. He sat down and felt the heavy coin purse on his hip. Only now he remembered his loot. Before the others arrived, he rummaged through the fort as much as he dared and gathered the most valuable items in his own pockets. From one of the strongboxes, he found a good amount of valuables. Gold, gemstones, and jewelry. He didn't have time to sort all the necklaces and rings so he just stuffed most of them inside his purse.

He took it out, opened it and poured its contents to the table. The Jarl frowned but didn't say anything. He began to sift through his findings. The most valuable pieces he could sell, like the necklaces and the rings. He could also get rid of the rubies and emeralds, he had no use for them. And the more gold he had the better weapons he could get and be more prepared to leave this city and head towards Windhelm.

He was planning ahead and almost missed the most important finding of all. Suddenly his heart skipped a beat. The people around him stopped moving and ceased to exist. He stared at the one jewel he searched for the past twenty years.

His hand trembled as he picked up the small golden pendant. The golden crescent moon. He blinked his eyes and held his breath. Could it really be...?

"You asked me if I remember anything", Sura's voice whispered into his ear. "Not really, no. But there's something that I'm hoping might eventually lead me to somewhere. To someone…"

The jewel glowed weakly in the dim light. He lifted the necklace to his eyes. Was it really her necklace? Could there be another one just like it? Besides his own...

Zahraji...Sura…

Soft steps echoed through the hall as Danica Pure-Spring walked in. They all lifted their heads, she approached the Jarl and bowed.

"She's stable now", she said. "I have healed her physical wounds. She needs to rest now."

"Did she wake up?" the Jarl asked and the woman shook her head.

"It seems that those men...were extremely brutal," the priestess said. "For now her body is alright but I'm afraid there aren't spells or potions that can cure her mind. We only see the full damage when she wakes up."

"Thank you," the Jarl said. "I appreciate all you've done. Now we can only wait."

The priestess nodded. She said she would return the next day and check up on her again. She turned to Farengar and explained shortly what potions she had used and what their possible effects were. Then she bowed once again and headed to the door. The Jarl sighed, stood up from his chair and walked upstairs. His steps were heavy and tired.

As soon as he was gone, Lydia ran into Sura's room, sat beside her and grabbed her hand. She lifted it to her cheek and tried to hold her tears back. Crying wouldn't help now. Sura looked very peaceful in her sleep. But Lydia sensed it wasn't normal sleep, she wouldn't wake up even if she tried to scream and shake her. But this is good, she thought. She needs this, she needs to rest and gather her strength.

Behind her Farkas and Vilkas stood at the door. Both men were exhausted. Vilkas took a step closer, he desperately wanted to help her, give some of his strength to her. But the thin thread that once was between them, that once tied them together was suddenly gone and severed. Those first weak, fragile buds that were almost open, almost ready to bloom, now laid dead and withered. Vilkas swallowed, groaned, pushed his brother aside and stormed off. His rage was too close to the surface, too hot to handle. Impossible to hold. Farkas turned, sighed and ran after him. He knew he should follow his brother no matter where he went know. It wasn't a good idea to leave him alone.

J'Ziir didn't see or hear them go. He was still sitting at the table. The necklace in his hand, almost burning against his palm. He couldn't stop staring at it. He pulled his own pendant from under his cuirass and placed it next to the one he found.

Identical, he swallowed. They are identical. There are only two of them in this the world. Mine...and hers. How did it end up in Mistwatch? he thought. Of course, a bandit camp! Probably stolen. Finding this doesn't mean…it doesn't mean that she's...alive. And of course, there was no way of telling how it ended in Mistwatch. No one to tell him where it came from, to who it belonged to.

Except…" _but there's something…_ "

"That's Sura's necklace," Lydia's voice said to him. "You found it?"

"What do you mean?" J'Ziir wheezed. "Hers?"

"Yes," Lydia nodded. "It's pretty important to her. I'm sure she's glad to have it back."

"How long has she had it?" J'Ziir sprang up, grabbed her shoulders and almost shook her. "How long?"

"E..ever since she came here," Lydia stuttered and pushed him away."Wh..why are you so angry again?"

_"There's something"…"ever since she came here_ ". J'Ziir didn't answer. He squeezed the necklace, pushed Lydia aside and hurried to Sura's room. When Lydia saw where he was going, she ran after him. She yanked him back at the door and blocked his entrance.

"What are you doing?" Lydia's eyes flamed. "Leave her be! She needs to rest!"

"I have questions!" J'Ziir shoved her back but she was persistent and didn't move. "Raji…"

"You can ask them later", Lydia folded her arms and stood her ground like a bodyguard. "When she's better. Now, back off before I call the guards."

J'Ziir raised his eyes and looked at the unconscious girl, laying there lulled into a deep, dead like sleep. I have questions, but she can't answer them. It's her necklace, but she doesn't remember her past. She looks like Zahraji, but her name is different. She's not from here and yet these people are her family, this is her home.

"My Thane", Lydia's voice softened and he touched his arm, trying to comfort him somehow. "She's my best friend, I've known her most of my life. I know her maybe even better than she knows herself. She has no idea where that necklace came from or who gave it to her."

Her words stirred something inside him. He didn't understand himself, why he was suddenly searching, looking. He hadn't looked for years. He only had one goal in his life and coming back to it now felt secondary, almost useless. Hope was a company he didn't need in his life. He was used to physical pain, not this kind of uncertainty that emanated from inside. He took a step back and looked around like he didn't know where he was. He turned his gaze to Lydia. She caught the fading remnants of hope, sadness and even fear in his eyes. He reached out his hand and handed the necklace to her.

"If it's so important," he finally muttered. "Give it back to her."

Then he turned and fled. Literally. What were you thinking? he asked himself when he strode toward the Bannered Mare. Of course, it's not her. She told you already, didn't she? "It's not me you're looking for". Those were her words. And wouldn't she recognize you? Wouldn't she even feel it? Know it somehow? But why then...why she had the necklace? Who gave it to her?

He just wanted to forget the whole incident. His mind was overwhelmed, filled with contradicting theories. The emotional part of him, the part he believed was long dead and gone, clung on, tried to convince him that it was actually her. But so many things, so many facts spoke against it that he couldn't trust on hope and feeble emotions alone. He opened the door, walked straight to the counter and ordered some mead. Hulda didn't argue but she looked at him little suspicious. J'Ziir never drank mead before, he had, in fact, said that he didn't like it.

But here he was now. Drinking. As an Innkeeper, Hulda knew not ask questions. And the Dragonborn looked as he might shout the first person to death who asked why he was here and not out there, fighting the dragons.

J'Ziir emptied the first bottle in seconds and Hulda brought her two more. He promised to pay; she didn't have to worry about that. He would always pay his debts.

"Didn't you say the Drunken Huntsman has better drinks?" a familiar voice said next to him. "How come you are drinking here?"

J'Ziir glanced up and saw the annoying face of his housecarl, the face of his personal slave. One of the many reasons for his continuing misery. He sneered but didn't stop drinking. "When you are desperate, everything goes down," he noted.

"That's funny", Lydia sat down next to him. "Didn't know you were desperate enough to start pouring mead down your throat."

She studied him with her piercing, green eyes and for a while he tolerated it. At first her eyes on him, her sitting next to him felt almost natural, almost…desirable. That word sent shivers down his spine, and not the good kind. He knew very little of desire and he certainly didn't want to attach the word to his housecarl. And eventually, her intense gaze began to irritate him.

"What are you staring at?" he snapped at her with a tone she knew so well.

"Who's Raji?" Lydia asked.

"No one," J'Ziir said and his voice made it clear that he didn't want to talk about it. But the days when she was actually afraid of him were in past and she wasn't going to drop the subject so easily.

"She can't be no one," she sighed. "Someone important? Your wife?"

"You think I'm marriageable?" J'Ziir huffed and nodded at Hulda who brought more mead to the counter. "You think there's a woman on Nirn who would tolerate me?"

"True, you have one of those faces only a mother could love," Lydia joked, but her attempts to inspire laughter or even a sarcastic smirk were all in vain. He frowned and turned back to his mead. "If she is not your wife, then who is she?" Lydia insisted. "And what's with the necklace? Why is it so important?"

"Just let it go", J'Ziir looked at her. "I'm tired."

"How many times have I said the same words to you?" Lydia shook her head. "And did you care? No. And now I don't care, because this has something to do with Sura. And like I told you, she's my best friend. So, I'll ask again. Who is Raji?"

He remained silent. He thought about what to say and how to say it. He wasn't obligated to explain his life to her. He had never talked about it to anyone. But he knew that if he wouldn't answer she would just keep pestering, just keep pushing him. It would be easiest to get it over now.

"Raji," he slurred. "Was my sister."

"Was?" Lydia asked.

"She died," J'Ziir nodded. "Years ago, along with the rest of my family."

"Are you sure?" Lydia asked. "That she's dead?"

"I didn't see her body, if that's what you mean," J'Ziir grabbed another bottle. "She was pushed off a cliff. Into a river filled with waterfalls and rapids. There's no way she survived. She was only five years old."

"I'm so sorry," Lydia touched his arm but he pulled away from her.

"I don't need your pity," he hissed and gulped down some more mead.

"Why then all the fuss about the necklace?" Lydia wondered. She was becoming a master when it came to ignoring his hateful comments and remarks. "If you know she's dead?"

"That necklace," he continued. "It belonged to her. There are only two in existence in this world, one for her and the other for me," he said, drank down another bottle and then turned to look at her. "So, now you know. Satisfied?"

"For now," Lydia nodded. "But..."

"Be quiet," J'Ziir placed his finger on top of her mouth. She pushed it away and wiped her lips like she just tasted something rotten. "I don't want to talk about it anymore. You already squeezed more out of me that I was about to tell. Don't push your luck, slave."

"Housecarl!" Lydia corrected.

"Whatever," J'Ziir rolled his eyes. "Hulda, keep those bottles coming."

"I've think you've had quite enough already," Lydia said, turned to Hulda and shook her head. "Let's go. You need some sleep too, Dragonborn."

"Who are you to say when I've had enough?" J'Ziir looked at her and his eyes were watery and glassy. His voice was slurry and incomprehensible. She barely understood what he was saying. "Since when did you gain the right to command me? To tell me what to do..."

"I am not commanding you," Lydia explained slowly. Was he really that drunk already? "I'm trying to look after you. As a housecarl should."

"A housecarl or a wife?" J'Ziir stumbled up and he was swaying so much that Lydia had to grab his hand to prevent him from falling. "Want to hold my hand?" he sneered at her.

"I don't know where you get the ridiculous idea that I'd want something to do with you," Lydia sighed. "By the Divines, why did you drink so much?"

"There's a first time for everything", J'Ziir muttered and closed his eyes. Why did I drink so much? he asked himself in his confused mind. He never drank, he hated the taste of mead. He preferred a clear head. He always loathed people who got too drunk and never understood the reasons behind their drinking.

"You despise me," J'Ziir mumbled. Those weren't actually his words, were they? "I can hear it in your voice. You only serve me because you were forced to do so..."

"Uhm…as I remember it, you gave me a free will to do what I want and go where I want," Lydia argued. "I'm here because I care. Let' go then..."

"Get away from me, woman!" J'Ziir shook her off and as he yanked his hand free, he almost lost his balance and fell backward. "I have places to be..."

"You can barely walk straight," Lydia stated. "Where do you think you are going?"

"For another round," J'Ziir burped and Lydia held her nose in disgust. "To the Drunken Huntsman..."

"Oh, no you're not," Lydia pushed him backward and looked at Hulda. "Is the room upstairs still free?"

The innkeeper nodded and began to gather the empty bottles away. Lydia paid for the room and for the drinks even though Hulda tried to explain that it wasn't necessary.

"Are you going to seduce me now?" J'Ziir mumbled as Lydia pulled him toward the stairs. "Take advantage of me when I'm vulnerable?" Somewhere in the deep corners of his mind, he couldn't believe the words that escaped his mouth. If he could, he would have slapped himself across the face countless times until he sobered up.

"Oh, you saw through my sneaky plans! All my life I have wanted nothing more than to seduce and tame a wild animal like you," Lydia grunted and rolled her eyes. She led him upstairs all the while tried to make sure he didn't stumble or fall downstairs. They were already making quite a scene, the last thing she needed was her Thane rolling down the steep ladder like a heavy bag of flour.

"Sometimes it's better to be an animal," J'Ziir snapped and leaned against the wall as Lydia opened the door. Then, before she could guide him inside, he grabbed her shoulders and slammed her back against the wall. "You don't have to explain things or be reasonable. You don't need to listen to annoying women asking about your past. Animals don't have a past. They just follow their instincts."

"It seems to me," Lydia argued and pushed him towards the room. "That you have already abandoned that part of your brain. You know the part that makes you a human instead of an animal."

"But I'm not a human," J'Ziir stared at her and blinked slowly. "Why should I act like one?"

She sighed again. In the future, she better make sure never to let her Thane drink again. Nothing but water from now on. She pushed him inside and tried to direct him towards the bed. "Get some sleep."

"I can't sleep on a foreign bed," he stopped suddenly and she pumped against his back.

"What are you talking about?" Lydia yelled. "You don't own a bed in this city. In fact, you don't own a bed anywhere in Skyrim because you haven't bought a house, no matter how many times I have suggested it."

"I don't want to own anything in this filthy land!" J'Ziir pouted. "You want me to buy a house so that you can lay low and mosey around like a noble", J'Ziir crossed his arms. "I think not. And besides, your behavior isn't very housecarl like these days. It's…unacceptable. Shouldn't a housecarl be a little more careful with her words?"

"Well, there's a big word for you", Lydia noted. "I've noticed that it doesn't matter what I say. You never listen to me anyway."

"And still, you keep repeating the same things," J'Ziir smiled and his whole face was lit up in a weird, very creepy grin. "That's why you are a good friend…"

"A friend?" Lydia cocked an eyebrow. "Is that some new, twisted way to insult me? First saying that we are friends and then..."

"Of course it would offend you," J'Ziir started to remove his armor. "For you to find out that this cat actually…thinks you as a…a…something more than an irritating, intolerable Nord." Something more? J'Ziir's mind repeated and groaned. Why did you have to add that?

Lydia's mouth hanged open, she wasn't sure had she heard him right. Or understood him right. She also clung to those same words. Something more. It could mean a number of things. And she wasn't sure, did she really want to be something "more" than just a housecarl. Even…a friend.

"Making you uncomfortable, am I?" he laughed but it was an awkward, forced laughter, mixed with some drunken confusion. "Ha-ha-haa-ha-haa! Have you heard anything so ridiculous in your whole life? You and I…as f-f- friends!" Or something more! He kept laughing and fell on the bed. Lydia turned to the door but her hand stopped in the mid-air and she was having difficulties to breathe. Somehow the word "friend" hid other meanings behind it. He might have meant something else, but he could not bring himself to say it. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was searching for another meaning, almost wanted to find it and put it into its right place. And at the same time, she was scared to realize what that other meaning was. Because finding it meant a shift in the balance of their current relationship. Whatever it was. A Thane and his housecarl, a noble and his loyal subject. It's just the mead talking, she said to herself. It's not really him.

"W...why?" Lydia turned slowly around. Why are seeking for it? A voice inside her asked. Why do you want to change the balance of things? He had said it as a joke, as something utterly laughable, but she still wanted to know if some parts of what he said were true. If he really wanted this to be "something more", wanted them to be "friends". Even if only a small, tiny portion of him wanted that.

He stopped laughing and just laid there for a while. Then he stood upright and sat on the edge of the bed. His blue eyes were softer and darker, more intensive. He didn't look at her, his eyes were fixed somewhere inside of himself.

"If I had a friend," he whispered. "Just one friend, then maybe I wouldn't be so...afraid."

"Afraid?" she repeated. He had never been afraid in her presence; she didn't know what he looked like when he was afraid. "Afraid of what?"

At first, it seemed he didn't hear her question. He was all alone, almost talking to himself. He didn't start to spit vicious words around like an angry spider spat its venom.

"This hate," he finally said. His eyes were focused on somewhere else, somewhere far beyond this room. "It's my only friend right now. I can feel it swallow me, and I let tear off the last bits of goodness and kindness that I might still have. I let that happen...come here, come here, it calls me. Let me embrace you…let me love you…"

He didn't continue. Lydia swallowed. She had never seen him open up this much and for the first time, she could see some of the reasons behind his feelings. He was lonely, extremely so. Lonely and afraid. His will of revenge drove him ahead, made him turn people away, build thick, impenetrable walls around him. His revenge was his only purpose.

"When it happens", he continued and now his eyes shifted, looked straight at her and made her feel weak and afraid, not for herself, but for him. "Then I am truly the animal you always thought I was."

"Let go of it," Lydia said softly. Her soft heart reached out for him. She had an incurable soft spot for people who suffered. She couldn't stop herself even if she tried. She felt the urge to comfort him, to hold him and replace all the hatred with something better. Yes, she wanted to help him. To be his friend.

"It's been with me all these years," he sighed and tiredness began to creep over him. "It has kept me going. It's like a dark veil that lingers around me. A smoke that only I can see and feel and touch. I have lived with it so long...without it, I don't have a purpose."

"But you do!" Lydia hurried to him, knelt in front of him and grabbed his hands. "You are the Dragonborn..."

As soon as the word slipped out of her mouth, he changed. His ears turned backward, his eyes grew colder. Even in his alcohol-hazed mind, he hated to hear that name. In fact, it infuriated him even more now than when he was sober.

"You and your Nord legends," he pulled his hands back and stood up. "It's not a purpose. It's a duty that was forced upon me by your people and the Greybeards."

"You still hate this country and its people?" Lydia asked. "After everything you've seen and done? After you've learned to know the people of Whiterun? You even played around with Mila?"

"Oh, now is a good time to throw it all back to my face, isn't it?" he growled.

"If she was your sister," Lydia started. "If Sura is your sister..."

"What did I just..."

"Hear me out!" Lydia interrupted him. "This is her homeland. She has no memories of her childhood. This is where she has been living most of her life. And unlike you, she loves this land. She loves its people."

"And your point is?" J'Ziir looked at her.

"Your duty," Lydia said. "Do it. Be the Dragonborn, save Skyrim!"

"Have you heard nothing I've said?" J'Ziir stepped closer.

"Do it for her," Lydia didn't let his cold sarcastic tone throw her off. "If this land is not safe, she is not safe. Above all else, you always wanted to keep your sister safe, right? You see your sister in her. Then respect her memory."

She looked at him but saw no softness in his eyes. He wasn't going to give up, he was going his own way despite her pleas and requests. But still, she wanted to change his mind. Give up this foolish vengeance. Why? she asked herself. What are you so afraid of? That he might not come back.

That he might die.

"The hate that's in there," she pointed at his chest. "Replace it with the affection you had for her."

They stood like that for a moment, silently. Lydia didn't dare look into his eyes. She still stood at the door, but being in the same room with him felt oddly comforting, intimate, even arousing. That last word scared her and she jerked away from him. She knew what he was like. He didn't need women, comfort or warmth. Or friends. Before he said anything she turned away and opened to the door.

She didn't want to face him, she didn't want him to see the tears in her eyes. But just as well she didn't see him, trying to reach out for her. His hand trembled when it was only a few inches away from her shoulder. And as she walked out, for the first time he wished against his will, she could have been more than just his housecarl. But even wild horses wouldn't have dragged it out of him.


	17. Chapter 17

**17.**

In another part of Whiterun, another man filled with rage stormed out of the Dragonsreach. He heard his brother's steps behind him but he didn't slow down. He didn't greet the guards, he didn't look around, he just kept going until he was in the training yard. Farkas followed him there, but he didn't try to stop him or get him to talk.

They both knew talking wouldn't help in this situation.

He took off his armor and threw it aside. Then he pulled out his sword and struck the training dummies again and again. He was sweating despite the cold night air but it was not caused by the exertion. His anger was boiling over.

"Are you going to destroy every dummy we have?" Farkas finally asked him. Two broken, torn down training stands were already laying on the ground.

He didn't answer. He kept hitting, over and over again but he couldn't get rid of these feelings. How powerless he felt. How useless he was. He hadn't been able to protect the one he loved. He hadn't been able to keep her safe, out of harm's way. And now she was lying there, broken and destroyed, lost in her own nightmare worlds. She was beyond his reach, even if he tried to hold her, to comfort her, she would probably just run away and hide from him.

"Leave the dummies alone," Farkas grabbed his arm and yanked him around. "There's a live target here too!"

"I don't want to hurt you," Vilkas grunted and pulled his arm away.

"You can try," Farkas grinned and pulled out his sword. "Just one piece of advice, brother. Leave your brains out of this one. Thinking isn't going to help you now."

Without warning Vilkas charged. Farkas saw it in his eyes, so he dodged and returned his strike with his sword. The steel clanked together and Farkas danced around his opponent. He realized that this was different than their usual sparring. He didn't mind few superficial wounds or scratches. It wasn't him that Vilkas was after. There was someone else he wanted to kill. Over and over again. But he already tore the Orc to pieces, slowly and painfully. Farkas had never seen his brother so brutal, so cruel. Vilkas didn't torment his victims. He always made sure they died quickly and painlessly.

He got out the way just in time, Vilkas swung his sword toward him. His eyes were burning, he was growling and roaring like a madman and the blood vessels in his arms were bulging. His muscles tensed and his teeth were bared and sharp. Vilkas charged him, without hesitation, without thinking about the consequences. Every time Farkas was able to ward him off, to dodge and to make sure neither of them was hurt or injured. He knew Vilkas was beyond reason, talking wouldn't help. At this point, he probably couldn't even hear his voice. Farkas didn't attack, he only defended himself.

He didn't know how long it took when the change in Vilkas began. His neck grew thicker, his eyes turned yellow, his claws got sharper and his muscles and bones cracked and stretched. Farkas threw his sword away, attacked his brother and tackled him to the ground. He pressed his whole weight against him, locked his arms around his body and pushed his head towards the rocky ground. He knew this was the most painful part of the transformation, no matter how many times it happened. There was another being inside you, a massive beast that wanted to get out, rip you to pieces. Your body ached and cried and your muscles and tendons strained and grew. All you could do was breath in short agonizing gasps trying to get as much air in your lungs as you could. But the worst part was being stuck in the middle of the middle of it all. You weren't a man nor a beast. Your body refused to transform but your brain wanted to drive you there anyway. They kept bumping adrenaline in your blood, but all you could do was shout in agony and wait until it was over.

Like Vilkas was doing now.

Farkas didn't remember the last time his brother let this happen. Vilkas was always in control, he always kept his cool, knew when to turn and when not. And lately, he didn't want to become transform at all. He wanted to be a man, a Nord, not an animal. He talked about it with the Harbinger and their long conversations strengthened his resolve. Sometimes Aela and Skjor asked them to join for a hunt. Farkas usually agreed but Vilkas didn't. It had been a long time since they had all been hunting together.

"You can get off me now," Vilkas said with a suppressed voice. "I'm alright."

"You sure?" Farkas asked. "You know as well as I do that you can't turn here. In the woods, that's fine. Under the Skyforge, that's fine. But in the middle of Whiterun..."

"I know, just get off me!" Vilkas tried to push him away.

Farkas stood up but was ready to contain him again if need be. He pulled his brother up, he was dripping with sweat, covered in dirt and dust but the fierce look in his eyes was finally gone.

"Want to talk about it?" Farkas asked and picked up his sword.

"What's there to talk about?" Vilkas looked at him. "Talking isn't going to change anything."

"No," Farkas agreed. "But it might help. Isn't that what you always say? Try using your words before your sword. Sometimes words can be more powerful than any sword."

"When did I say that?" Vilkas frowned and Farkas smiled.

"When we were just whelp and you always lost," Farkas grinned.

"Shut up," Vilkas smacked his brother in the back of his head. "As if there ever was a time I lost to you. Keep dreaming, ice brain!"

Mission accomplished, Farkas thought when his brother smiled a little. It was an unhappy, painful smile, but a smile nevertheless. After today he'd been afraid that Vilkas might never smile again. Not that he smiled that often, it was a kind of a special occasion when he did.

"You just need to be a little more patient," Farkas said when they climbed up the stone stairs and sat in one of the tables at the porch. "You've been patient for years, what's couple more days going to do."

Vilkas didn't answer. He looked up at the Dragonsreach. It wouldn't be just a few days, he knew it. Sura wasn't the kind of woman who would find strength and confidence in what happened to her. It would probably just make her more timid, shyer and ashamed of herself. And she would always remember the Orc. He would always be there, somewhere in the back of her head, laughing, grinning and repeating all the horrible things she had gone through.

"You love her, right?" Farkas poured some mead in his tankard and lifted it to his lips.

"Why do you ask?" Vilkas frowned.

"You wouldn't be so angry if you didn't," Farkas said with a smug grin on his face. It was like he discovered something new and inspirational from that thick brain of his and he was proud to deliver these words in the moments of great suffering. "Maybe you should tell that to her. Finally, come clean. You're a bit too honorable and careful for my liking."

"As if that would help now!" Vilkas sighed.

"Just…don't waste all your time on nobility," Farkas pointed out. "That doesn't keep you very warm during the night."

Vilkas knew he was right. He could have made his move years and years ago. And somehow he was convinced that if he'd been with her that day, he could have saved her. That was a foolish thought, he knew it. She'd been with the Dragonborn, and even he was beaten and bloodied. They sat together for a while, looking up at the sky that was dotted with stars. Finally, Farkas stood up and picked up his sword. "I think I'm heading to the Bannered Mare. Women love men who are just fresh out of battle. Something about the sweat and how it glistens on your skin."

Vilkas chuckled, watched his brother walk down the stairs and over the yard. When he disappeared behind the corner he stood up and walked back to the training yard. He picked up his armor and moaned as he bent down. His ribs were still sore and his muscles ached but other than that, he was feeling slightly better.

If one can feel any better in this situation, he thought as he walked inside. He felt like he would wear this quilt for an eternity. Carry it on his shoulders like a dark, heavy cloak. There was no one in the mead hall and he continued straight downstairs to his room. When he opened the door, he immediately saw the book on his table.

He found it a couple of days ago when he came back to Jorrvaskr. He and Farkas were near Morthal, yet another bandit group was disturbing local farmers and stealing their livelihood. When they returned, the book was on his doorstep. He felt kind of regretful that he hadn't been there when Sura visited, but he thought there would probably be lots of opportunities in the future.

Now he doubted that. She would never again step inside this room, she wouldn't come here to share her feelings, her thoughts or memories. He tossed the book to his table, he didn't browse it through and to this day he hadn't noticed the neatly folded message between the pages.

He placed his armor on the stand and his sword in the weapons rack against the wall. He grabbed the book and was about to set it back on the shelf when the piece of paper glided to the floor. He picked it up and rolled it open. It was a full letter, filled with a small, delicate handwriting. In the beginning, she was very courteous and thanked him for lending her the book. She explained she read it through, but couldn't find any more details about the necklace or where it came from and who made it. She asked if he could help her locate the Argonian, who one who sold the book to Belethor. In the next sentence she added she knew it was a long shot, but maybe he could "rough" Belethor up a bit, make him remember. That suggestion was clearly marked as half joke; she wrote she didn't want to see him end up in the Dragonsreach dungeon for scaring the merchant.

Then the mood changed. She thanked him once more and noted that maybe that was a little silly of her, thanking him so much. But it wasn't just because of the book she showered him with gratitude. She was thankful that he listened to her, that he actually cared for her. Right after that she noted that it might just be part of his nature, to care for anyone, he was a kind soul like that.

_"Yes, that's the kind of man you are. Always so nice to me. You shouldn't really be that friendly towards me, I might get the wrong idea. I'm sure you were quite confused last time that I just grabbed and kissed you out of the blue. Maybe I should be sorry for that. But…but...I don't want to be. Sorry, that is. You might regret kissing me back, but I don't regret initiating it._

_You care for so many people, look after your family. I've had dreams, stupid, stupid daydreams, where I want you to look after me the same way. Someday I'd like to be part of that…your family. Maybe I'm just a bit jealous because I don't have a family of my own. I worry every time you leave Whiterun. It's so dangerous out there, who knows what might happen. I know you can look after yourself, but still…I worry._

_Please, be safe. I'd hate to see something terrible happen to you. Because I care for you, Vilkas. I care so much."_

He staggered to his bed. His knees gave up and he collapsed. For a long time, he only sat there, squeezing the letter in his hand (s _omeday, I'd like to be part of that…your family)_. He covered his eyes with his other hand and for the first time in his life, the tears broke through. ( _I worry every time you leave Whiterun. It's so dangerous out there, who knows what might happen.)_ He didn't make a sound, but his shoulders shook and he gasped for air. If he had known sooner...if he had read this sooner...he would have accompanied her to anywhere ( _Please, be safe),_  anytime. And he would have done anything to prevent this from happening to her.


	18. Chapter 18

**18.**

_The big, muscular man was the first thing she saw when she climbed up the high stone stairs. She was squeezing a blue stuffed rabbit against her chest. The man had long, brown hair and a thick beard. She stopped at the top of the stairs and stared at him with her round, blue eyes._

_"Well, look who's here," a gentle-voiced woman saw her and knelt down in front of her. "Aren't you a cute one? What's your name, little girl?"_

_She didn't answer. She had no name._ _The woman sounded friendly and she wasn't afraid. The lady smiled at her and brushed her cheek with her hand._

_"The Skyforge is no place for a child," the man said and his voice was low and deep. He sounded stern but there was curiosity in his gaze when he glanced at her._

_"She seems interested," the woman said and followed the child's gaze. She was looking at the forge, how the sparks flew when the man was hitting the steel blade with the big hammer. "Does it look interesting, dear?"_

_"Pang, pang," she pointed at the anvil. "It goes pang, pang."_

_"Yes, it does," the woman laughed. "The hammer makes that sound as it hits the metal."_

_"What does it do to the metal?" the little girl asked and stepped closer. "Why it needs to be hit?"_

_"To mold it," the woman said. "To make the metal into swords or shields or jewelry."_

_She was still holding the rabbit but now she was more interested in the glowing metal. The orange glow reminded her of something familiar. The metal was hot and red like the setting sun and the sparks were like little stars that shone for a moment and then passed out. She looked at the man who was using the hammer, he seemed concentrated and a little angry. But he wasn't scary looking...not like..._

_There her thoughts ended. She didn't know who she was thinking because there was no one she could see or remember. But she knew there had been a really scary person...someone she didn't want to see again._

_"Want to try?" the man asked suddenly._

_She didn't hesitate. She tossed the rabbit aside and the man placed a big wooden box before the anvil. He lifted her on top of it and then he guided her hands, the other grabbed the pliers and kept the hot metal in place, the other wrapped around the hammer. His big hands covered hers and he kept his pace slow and gentle. Small hits caused only small sparkles to fly. She giggled and the man behind her also laughed. He wasn't scary at all. The woman stood beside them and she smiled also. She didn't hear the hurried steps in the stairs. A girl ran up to the forge, her brown hair was tangled and her green eyes were glinting._

_"Oh, here she is," Lydia sighed. "I thought I lost her."_

_"Is she your friend?" the woman asked._

_"She lives with us in the Dragonsreach," Lydia explained. "She's...family. I'm sorry if she disturbed you..."_

_"Oh, no," the woman shook her head. "She's actually the first one who is interested in Eorlund's work. Olfina only thinks about boys and Avulstein and Thorald like to play with swords, not make them."_

_"If she wants," Eorlund said finally. "There's no reason why she...couldn't come here every now and then."_

_"Didn't you just said that Skyforge isn't a place for a child?" his wife remarked._

_"Can't a man change his mind, woman?" Eorlund grunted._

_"Of course, dear," his wife smiled. "Of course."_

* * *

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was the ceiling. It wasn't made of rock, it was wooden. And she wasn't lying on the cold stone floor but under soft, warm blankets. She moved her eyes from the ceiling to the door.  _I am in the Dragonsreach_ , she thought hazily.  _If I'm here...then..._

As soon as she let her mind wonder the fear jumped in. She opened the door and it stepped in like it was invited. Frantically she looked around.  _He isn't here_ , she thought. She squeezed the blanket and her hands were trembling. But if he is...if he is here somehow...? She heard soft steps and even though they didn't resemble his heavy pace at all she couldn't help herself. Her hands were shaking and she fought hard to keep herself calm.

"Sura?" Lydia peeked in. "Are you awake?"

"Ly...Lydia," she stuttered. Her friend rushed next to her and she grabbed her arms like her life depended on it. "Is...is...he he-here?"

"You're safe now, Sura," Lydia calmed her. "No one is going to hurt you anymore. I promise."

She backed away from her, wrapped her arms around her legs and stared at the door. She couldn't take her eyes away from it.  _Lydia is lying_ , she thought.  _He is here_.  _I know he is. I know he is!_

"Sura," Lydia took her cold hand into hers. "It's alright. He is dead."

Her words didn't sink in, they meant nothing to her. She remembered every detail, every gesture, every word and every sound the Orc made. She even remembered his breath that smelled of mead and the calluses in his rough hands. He wasn't dead. He was alive in her mind, in her memories. Her brain would keep him alive always.  _Always_. Because her brain wouldn't let her forget.

"Lydia," Farengar stepped into the room and as soon as Sura saw him, she let out a fearful cry, backed even further away and covered her head with her hands.

"Sura, it's alright," Lydia tried. "It's only Farengar. You know him..."

"Go away," Sura whined. "Go away. Don't let him near me. Don't..."

It wasn't Farengar, it was the Orc who somehow managed to take the court wizard's appearance. It was some weird transformation magic, something she never experienced. It killed Farengar and followed her to the Dragonsreach. It managed to fool everyone.

Farengar watched the girl who was trembling at the corner of her bed, covering her head. The only sound she made was that wretched, terrified moan. This girl had never been afraid of him. But now she couldn't even look at him. He had seen the look in her eyes, she saw her tail curled up around her legs and her ears were drawn back. Farengar left the room and walked back to his workroom. It seemed that for the first time in his life, the spells or the potions couldn't help him, this problems was far beyond any magic he possessed.

"Sura," Lydia tried again and touched her hand. "Please, believe me. You're safe now."

"No, no no!" she wailed. "Don't you see. He will always find me. He is always here," Sura pointed her head and tears rolled down her face. "He never dies, he never leaves me alone. For the rest of my life, I will always hear his laughter. And I will always remember what he did. I can't run away from my memories!"

"It's alright," Lydia pulled her in her arms and tried to hold her own tears back. "You need to process what's happened. I understand that. But don't let him control you. Don't let him live. You have the power to finish him off."

Sura didn't answer because she could only cry. Lydia hugged her and neither of them noticed when the Jarl and Farengar arrived at the door. The two men had never felt so helpless. They had seen and lived through many things. The war was still ravaging the land and now there were the Dragons as well. Such an insignificant matter shouldn't have bothered them.

The Jarl had seen the horrors of the battlefields, he could never really forget them. He had seen all kinds of things and managed to cope with most setbacks. Somehow he was always able to help people and that was one of the reasons he was the Jarl of this city. So he could provide aid to his citizens. To help those in need. But now he couldn't do anything. He couldn't even comfort her, because it seemed that she didn't allow anyone else near her except Lydia. Her friend was the only person she now trusted.

"Good," Lydia smiled and wiped her tears. "It's a good thing you cry. You need to get it out of your system. Just cry as much as you need, alright."

Sura closed her eyes. She couldn't bring herself to smile, she had no reason to smile. Instinctively she lifted her hand to her neck, she had always found strength and comfort from her necklace.  _But you lost it_ , she remembered.  _He took it from you!_ But...somehow there it was, back in its right place. The same familiar shape under her fingers.

"How...?" she muttered.

"A friend found it," Lydia smiled.  _A true friend, indeed_ , she thought. "I told him it was important to you, so he gave it back."

"I was sure I would never see it again," Sura whispered. "Thank you."

"Sura," Lydia began and bit her lip. She shouldn't ask this from her, not now when she was going through so much pain already. But her curiosity was too much to handle. "Do you know someone named...Zahraji?"

"No," Sura answered. "Why do you ask?"

"Does it sound familiar?" Lydia inquired. "Like you might have heard that name before?" Again she shook her head. "Well, never mind then," Lydia waved her hand. "You still need to rest. Don't worry about it."

Lydia stood up. When she saw the fear in her friend's eyes she promised she wouldn't leave her. She sat on a small chair next to the bed and watched over her until she finally fell asleep. And even then she didn't move. She was thinking about what J'Ziir told her. About his sister, that he was sure she was dead. Fell off a cliff, into a river filled with rapids and rocks.

She remembered the day when they found Sura. She was standing in the middle of the road. She had a blue dress with little white flowers on it. And she had been completely wet, her fur was dirty and filled with pine needles and dead leaves. And she already had the necklace. Lydia remembered that jewel was much brighter back then. It shone in the dark, it glowed and sparkled on her neck. Like it was enchanted. Filled with secret magic. But over the years the glow disappeared, faded away. Now it was no more than a beautiful golden pendant.

In her inquisitive mind, Lydia wondered what else was hidden in Sura's past. In J'Ziir's past. Clearly, they were connected, she had no doubt about that. And no matter how much J'Ziir denied it, Lydia was convinced that he had found his dead sister. She smiled and was determined to bring them together again. She would anything in her power to make them, make Sura remember, who she really was. But most importantly, she wanted her to remember what happened all those years ago.


	19. Chapter 19

**19.**

Life in the Dragonsreach returned to as normal as it could. The days passed by, the Jarl received visitors, Irileth was still on her guard, Farengar worked in his laboratory and Proventus Avenicci helped the Jarl day to day, mostly rather trivial matters.

But Sura never left her room.

The maids took food to her because she didn't even go to the kitchen to eat. If they hadn't she might have starved herself. After the first few days, she had fallen into her own world. Lydia was the only one who got through to her. But even she was locked outside the sturdy, unbreakable walls Sura had built herself.

The once so young and happy girl they all knew and liked disappeared. She lived as a prisoner to her own memories, she only slept when she was too tired to stay awake and many nights she woke the whole reach with her piercing, agonizing screams. Farengar didn't dare to wake her anymore, he tried once but now he carried three deep scars on his cheek as a reminder of that night.

When she had nightmares Lydia was the only one who dared to wake her. And afterward, Sura was always deeply regretful and sorry to have awakened everyone else. But her fear didn't subside. She sat in the corner of her bed, stared the wall and her body trembled. She had lost weight and her skinny appearance caused Lydia to worry more and more. Because she didn't go outside, didn't really take care of herself anymore, her fur wasn't like it used to be. It wasn't shiny and groomed, it wasn't even that white anymore. The old Sura had always taken care of her fur, she liked its white color and she wanted to keep it clean and neat.

After one of those nights, Lydia talked to her father and to the Jarl. She wanted to help her friend, but she didn't know how. Nothing seemed to work and her nightmares didn't leave her alone.

"Danica has been here many times," Lydia said. "But even she hasn't been able to offer any advice. There isn't a potion that can cure her mind."

"She is afraid of men," the Jarl sighed. "She's afraid to leave her room. Isn't there a way we could coax her outside? Even just to the porch?"

"It would be a start," Lydia agreed. "I can try, but I can't promise anything. But we have another problem..."

"Now what?" Jarl Balgruuf asked.

"The Dragonborn wants to leave the city," Lydia said. "I have no idea where he is going, he hasn't told me. But it seems that I must follow him. And when I'm gone, there is no one here to take care of her."

Jarl Balgruuf shook his head. "Then, what can we do?"

"I have an idea," Lydia looked at them. "There is a Dunmer at the Drunken Huntsman. She is a mercenary, but she seems honorable and headstrong. I know, her fee is quite high. But if Sura has someone, a woman preferably, to protect her and follow her around, maybe she could...open up again."

"That could be a solution," Hrongar admitted. "Something we should consider."

"Hmm," the Jarl nodded. "What's this woman's name?"

"Janessa," Lydia said. "I think she hasn't left Whiterun just yet."

"Yes," the Jarl nodded. "Yes, that sounds good. Lydia, when exactly are you and the Dragonborn leaving?"

"Honestly, I don't know," Lydia admitted. –"He's rather unclear with his plans."

"Well, would you go talk to this woman and bring her here now," Jarl Balgruuf stood up from his chair. "I need to see her myself and hear what she thinks about the idea."

Lydia agreed and left the Dragonsreach. She considered talking to Janessa for quite some time now. The Dunmer did seem strong and proud but Lydia believed she wouldn't turn down the Jarl's offer. As she crossed the Wind District, she glanced towards the Jorrvaskr. She didn't know was Vilkas aware of how Sura was doing but she was grateful that at least for now, he stayed away. It was clear that Vilkas wasn't the only one who was interested in Sura. At the Market, she once again had to stop and tell Fralia the latest news. Arcadia came out from her shop and Carlotta and Mila gathered around. Most of Whiterun's women seemed to like the Khajiit girl and they were very fond of her.

After a while, she continued to the Drunken Huntsman. The Dunmer was sitting at her table like most days. Lydia greeted her and sat down next to her. Her voice was deep and calm, she had seen her share of this world. Lydia told her that the Jarl would like to meet her and she raised her eyebrows. When she explained the Jarl wanted to hire her, she nodded and told Lydia to lead the way. As the Jarl explained things in detail to her she didn't interrupt him. Nothing in her face revealed what she really thought about the idea and she allowed the Jarl to finish his speech before she said anything.

"So," Janessa started. "This girl was badly hurt. She is afraid of almost everyone and now she needs someone to look after her. And to encourage her, is that it?"

"Yes, that's basically it," the Jarl nodded.

"And may I ask," Janessa said. "What makes you think that I'd be able to do it? Didn't you already say that she was afraid of your own bodyguard who is also a Dunmer? Why do you think she would trust me?"

"I don't think she trusts anyone other than Lydia at the moment," the Jarl agreed. "But since she can't be here all the time, I would feel a lot better if she at least had company. Lydia has her own duties. I am willing to pay you a good amount of gold for this. I'm not asking you to be her friend."

The Dunmer didn't reply. She thought about what he said and then she glanced towards Farengar's workroom. "That's her room over there?"

The Jarl nodded. "She prefers staying in there."

"Alright," Janessa accepted. "You pay me my fee and we have a deal."

"Excellent," Jarl Balgruuf seemed relieved.

The Dunmer nodded and seemed satisfied. "Can I see her? Since I have now accepted the position, I would like to get to know her."

"Of course," the Jarl said. "Lydia, lead the way."

"No need," Janessa looked at Lydia. "I think I can find the way."

She walked through the wizard's workroom and greeted him. Then she opened the door to Sura's room. At first, she just watched her from the door. The girl was sitting on her bed. Her arms were wrapped around her feet, she was wearing a worn-out grey dress and that made her look even more pale and nonexistent. Her eyes were empty and emotionless. Janessa knew that look. She had experienced the same fear. But back then there was no one to help her. She had to go through it all alone. And partly because of her own memories she had agreed to help. She stepped inside and the girl moved her eyes from the wall to her. She noticed that her body stiffened, her ears flattened and her eyes grew larger. She sensed the fear, the anxiety, and the desperation. All those feelings were so familiar to her.

"Hello," she greeted and sat down to a chair. "I'm Janessa. The Jarl has hired me as your…companion. From now on I'll be wherever you are."

Her voice was low, calm and tranquil. She kept her tone low like she tried to soothe a fearful, terrified animal. The girl didn't say anything, but she pulled her dress down and shifted a little further away. She eyed her suspiciously but Janessa saw some of her nervousness melted away.

"Want to go for a walk?" Janessa suggested and stood up. She saw her eyes flare up and her body began to tremble. "To the porch, maybe? I hear the view is quite spectacular from up there. And the weather is nice, warm and sunny. I heard you like the summer."

"I...I don't..."

"Nothing is going to happen to you when you're with me," Janessa grabbed her hand gently. "You can be sure of that. See this sword. If anyone tries to come near to you, I won't hold back."

"J'Ziir had a sword too," Sura whispered but didn't pull her hand away. Janessa's grip was strong and reassuring. It reminded her of Eorlund's hands, the first time he guided her smaller hands with the hammer and the anvil. His hands had been very gentle despite his size and his strength.

"You can trust this sword to keep you safe," Janessa promised and helped Sura up. She didn't pull or force her, she just assisted her to take the first step. That was always the hardest. But it was something that this girl needed to take. It was something she was able to do. She wasn't as beaten down as she believed herself to be. "Let's go," Janessa smiled to Sura, squeezed her hand a little and guided her to the door.

Farengar didn't say anything when they came out of the room but he was amazed. This was the first time in days since he had seen the girl leave her quarters. Sura didn't look around, she just clung to her companion's arm and allowed her to guide her. When they passed the guards, she froze to her feet. She was having difficulties to breathe.  _It's him!_  her mind yelled.  _Under that mask...it's him!_ Janessa wrapped her arm around her shoulder and gently coaxed her to move on. The Jarl and his brother smiled as they saw them and Lydia had tears in her eyes.

They climbed up the stairs and Janessa opened the big doors to the Great Porch of the Dragonsreach. The cool wind blew over and for the first time in days, Sura felt something else than just fear and suffocation. The brisk spring air made her lift her head up and look around. Janessa walked her to the railing and they stood there together for some time.

"It's true what they say," the Dunmer smiled. "It's a pretty fantastic view indeed."

"Yes," Sura agreed. She had always liked the view but now it didn't seem so spectacular. She couldn't get rid of the feeling that there was someone looking at her, waiting for the right moment to attack. She glanced around and saw the guards walking around.

Five guards, she counted. If they attack us, Janessa won't be able to hold them all back. And if one of them is the Ocr...

"How are you feeling?" the Dunmer asked when she noticed her nervousness.

"There are...men up here," she whispered. "They have masks and one of them might be... _him_. If he has managed to come here if he is one of the guards? If they attack us, there is nothing we can do. Please, let's just go back inside."

Janessa saw her distress and she turned to look at the guards. The Jarl had explained that one of the men that tormented the girl was a big Orc. And her nightmares and memories revolved mostly around him. And she was mostly afraid that the Orc was somehow at the Reach with her.

"Hey, you!" she yelled at guard closest to them. "Take off your helmet!"

"I'm not allowed to do that," the guard answered.

The Dunmer didn't listen to him. She smiled at Sura, walked up the guard and yanked his helmet off. Underneath was a confused and rather angry looking blond man. "You see," she turned back to the Khajiit. "Just another Nord. No Orcs here. Want me to check the rest as well?"

Sura was relieved to see the man's face but his presence didn't make her feel any better. His was still a man and could attack her at any moment. Janessa called out the rest of the guards and as they gathered around, she pulled off their helmets one by one. Underneath all of them was a Nord, a blond, a brunette, an angry looking or just an irritated one. But they were all Nords, no doubt about that. Every one of them threatened to complain to the Jarl as she ordered them to get out from the porch. Her voice was stern and she didn't allow arguments.

When they stood alone at the porch, just her and Janessa, Sura felt a moment of peace for the first time in days. She closed her eyes and allowed the wind to caress her face.


	20. Chapter 20

**20.**

"I told you to stay behind!" J'Ziir growled. "You could have just waited at the inn, woman!"

"I...am your...sword and your...shield," Lydia panted and leaned against a huge rock.

"You're more like a heavy burden to bear," J'Ziir looked at her. "And how come you're so tired already? We just left. You can still see the village. Just turn back."

"Never," Lydia wiped her face. "I'll manage. Now that you have finally agreed to come here, I'm never going to turn back. And besides," she glanced at him. "Didn't you see how that Innkeeper stared at me?"

"What?" J'Ziir rolled his eyes.

"He did!" Lydia insisted. "He stared at...this part," she pointed at her chest.

"I wonder why," J'Ziir asked sarcastically. "When there is nothing to see."

"What do you mean by that?" Lydia grabbed his arm and gasped. "You mean you've been looking too?"

"No," J'Ziir yanked his arm away. "Your armor covers most of your body. Unless he used some sort of weird magic to see through your armor I don't see the point of staring."

"You think...that's possible?" Lydia covered her chest with her hands.

J'Ziir sighed and turned away. He looked up, the stairs seemed to continue on and on. 7000 steps, that's what they were called. And how many they climbed? Barely thirty. Lydia began to whine almost immediately when they left Ivarstead behind of them.

They had arrived at the Inn late last night. J'Ziir had only mentioned that he was leaving Whiterun, he didn't expect Lydia to follow him. But she appeared at the stables right at the time when he was preparing to leave. He told her to stay behind but she didn't seem to listen. Or more like, she didn't want to listen. The Innkeeper in Invarstead was interested to see some new people going through the quiet little village. The place was rather quiet these days, it was always nice to see some new faces.

"Your wife?" the owner asked. Lydia was almost glued to his side.

"My slave," J'Ziir answered and paid for two rooms.

"His housecarl," Lydia corrected and nearly punched his arm.

Housecarl, my ass! J'Ziir groaned. A housecarl was supposed to be useful, helpful. But this woman was a menace, a burden, a pain. And stuck in his path no matter where he went. He stared at her, panting and leaning against the rock.

"Let's go," he said angrily.

"Wait," Lydia raised her hand. "I'll...be right behind you, my Thane."

They climbed in silence for a while. The only voice J'Ziir heard was his  _housecarl's, his friend's_ heavy breathing and her irregular steps. Every now and then he glanced back to make sure she was still there. After a while, the clouds gathered around and it was starting to snow. J'Ziir was wearing his new leather armor, and this time he had sleeves on it. He didn't really like to cold, but he had gotten used to it over the years. He had hardened himself against it. He had no choice.

"My...Thane!" Lydia's voice came out somewhere from the snowstorm. J'Ziir stopped and turned around. He didn't see her, because the blizzard was suddenly so blinding but he did hear her. He walked back, navigating with the sounds that she made. After a while, he found her standing in the middle of the path, looking lost and a little scared.

"Hold my tail!" J'Ziir commanded. "So I don't have to go looking for you again."

Lydia didn't reply. She tried to grab his tail but it swung angrily back and forth. When she finally got hold of it, J'Ziir sneered. "Don't squeeze it or pull it. If you do, I'm going to push you off the mountain myself."

Lydia glared at him and pinched his tail purposefully. He didn't react, much to her annoyance. He took the lead and started to stride up the mountainside again. He didn't slow down even when she was panting and wheezing and trying her best to keep up. Why did we leave the horses behind? he asked himself. When they arrived at Ivarstead, J'Ziir thought the climb would be too difficult for the animals. Now he regretted his decision immensely. He pulled her along, dragged her up some parts. The snowstorm was ruthless. They could barely see in front of them. They couldn't see the sky, but J'Ziir remembered they had left Ivarstead quite early in the morning and he was hoping they would get to the top of the mountain before dark. But at this pace, he glanced over his shoulder.  _It's hopeless..._

"Are...we...there yet?" Lydia breathed and her voice was filled with hope.

" Have you been counting the steps?" J'Ziir grunted. "Is it 7000 already?"

"I thought...that you would do it," Lydia murmured. "I have just been..."

"Having difficulties to breathe, I get it," J'Ziir interrupted her. "Let's move on. We still have quite a climb ahead of us."

"Can't we just...take a break?" Lydia begged. "Just for a moment."

"And freeze to death? Does that sound better?" J'Ziir looked at her. "Why don't you just turn back? Wait for me at the Inn."

"I'll be fine," Lydia grit her teeth and squeezed his tail. "Just lead on!"

They continued to climb higher. The stone stairs were covered with snow, but the road up was still visible. There seemed to be no one else on this pilgrimage. The Innkeeper in Ivarstead mentioned that people sometimes climbed up the mountain, but it seemed that today J'Ziir and Lydia were only ones up here. Lydia noticed some huge stone pillars along the path which had writing in them. She tried her hardest to get J'Ziir slow down and read the information. But he was determined, didn't slow down and pulled Lydia along. In fact, he didn't even seem to hear her. So Lydia decided to keep her mouth shut. But soon she was having difficulties to breathe again.

After some time the path became even harder to see and the snow became deeper and deeper. Soon they were wading through the snow, with every step their feet sank in. J'Ziir was wondering why would anyone, anyone wants to come up here. Even for a pilgrimage. I should have never come here, he thought as he pushed through the snow. I should have never let that woman coax me into this. And by that  _woman_ , he meant his housecarl. Are you thinking of her as a woman now? he asked himself. Isn't she just a slave? An irritation? A problem? A nuisance? Yes, she is, he agreed. She's all those things. But she doesn't deserve to die up here.

The path followed the steep mountainside and cold, freezing wind was blowing up and down the snow embankment. He had to be careful not to step too close to the edge, he didn't want to take one false step, fall to his death and pull Lydia along. Her hands must have already frozen around his tale.

He sighed from relief when the path leads to a small valley which offered some shelter from the wind and storm. High rock walls towered above them and the snow was packed and harder. It was easier to stand on. Momentarily he wondered why it was so. Were there really so many climbers?  _Or was there...?_

His thoughts were interrupted by a loud grunting and roaring. He was completely unprepared and didn't have time to react when the white, colossal monster charged forward. Its arms were thick and muscular, it's teeth sharp and pointy. Its fur was completely white and so it was hard to spot in its snowy kingdom. J'Ziir tried to push Lydia aside, but she was too exhausted and blinded by the snow. The troll swung its huge paw and they both landed back first against the hard rock wall. All the air from his lungs was pushed out and his head felt dizzy and his mind unfocused. But he saw the monster turn and head towards them.

"Lydia!" J'Ziir yelled and shook her. "Wake up! Open your eyes, woman!"

"What...?" she mumbled and J'Ziir grabbed her and tossed her aside when the troll attacked. But once again, he took the full blow of its paw. Its sharp claws ripped his arm open and he felt the warm blood on his skin.

"Lydia!" he yelled, rolled on to his feet and pulled his ax out. "Get your bow ready! Shoot it!" He didn't know could Lydia hear him, was she even conscious, but their situation seemed very grim and he needed her help now more than ever.  _Isn't it your duty to protect me?_ he thought sarcastically.  _Well, woman. You seem to take it pretty seriously!_

The troll roared aggressively and closed in on him. He noticed his back was against the rock wall and if he didn't get a good hit on to a sensitive spot, he would probably suffer a bigger injury, even a painful bite. In that short moment, he remembered everything he had read from these creatures. Big, powerful, fast. Brutal, thick-skinned, merciless. Only weakness: fire. But he didn't have fire. He didn't have spells or staffs or enchanted weapons.

He tried to position himself so that the certain injury would be as small as possible. Because there was no way of avoiding it now. He readied his axes, chose a spot to land his first strike and waited. The troll rushed forward, and just as it was about to strike him, an arrow hit its shoulder from behind. The troll roared and stumbled back. That was enough for J'Ziir to roll out of its way. Another arrow flew through the air, but this time it didn't hit the troll, it almost nailed his shoulder to the rock wall.

"Watch where you're shooting!" he shouted to Lydia.

"Sorry," she yelled back. "It's hard to tell you two apart."

_Right_ , he thought.  _You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? To punish me!_

The next arrow Lydia shot also missed the troll but it wasn't meant for him either. As Lydia kept shooting and trying to hit the moving target, J'Ziir used his axes. He sliced the troll in the back, but a small scratch only seemed to irritate the beast. It swung its massive paws and luckily he was able to duck down in time. Without hesitation, he jumped up and sank both of his axes into its chest. Blood and fat spilled out but still, it didn't seem like the troll got any weaker by the damage he did.

"I'm out of arrows!" Lydia shouted.

"Then use your sword!" J'Ziir ordered. "Isn't that what you are? My sword and shield!"

As Lydia attacked the troll from behind, hacking and mutilating its back, J'Ziir targeted its legs. It didn't take them that long to bring the beast to its knees, it was already losing blood from the gashes it had in its chest. As J'Ziir sliced its throat and it fell to the ground, they were both gasping and heaving.

"You tried to hit me, didn't you?" J'Ziir panted and looked at Lydia. "What kind of housecarl...wishes to kill her Thane?"

"No," Lydia shook her head and fell to the ground. "I just...I have never been that good with bow and arrow. And it was really hard to tell you apart..."

"Really?" J'Ziir looked at the troll. "Really? Are you serious? Look at its size. It's two times bigger than me. And you say it's hard to tell us apart."

"But the snow blinded me and..."

"Never mind!" J'Ziir waved his hand. "Let's get moving."

"I...I don't think I can," Lydia sighed. "I'm so tired. Just go on without me."

"What do you expect me to do?" J'Ziir asked. "Want to me to skin the troll, wrap its fur around you and leave you here to take a nap?"

"That sounds wonderful," Lydia admitted and giggled. "Want to join me? It bet we could warm each other up..."

"Have you lost your mind?" J'Ziir frowned. "Get on your feet."

Lydia tried but again and again, she fell back to the ground. She was gasping for air and her limbs trembled from exhaustion. J'Ziir continued on but when he saw she wasn't following, he returned to her, grabbed her hand and lifted her on his back.

"At least try to hold on," he said and for the first time, Lydia didn't hear anger or annoyance in his voice. It was almost...caring. She nodded and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He was strong, she felt his muscles move under his skin. He carried her forward even when the snow once again covered the path and the wind nearly blew them off the mountain. Lydia was almost unconscious, but still, she held on. Her eyes couldn't really see anything, only J'Ziir's ears. She noticed the old scars in the back of his head, down his neck and wondered where he had gotten all those. Was his whole body covered with scars? His fur was thick and furry but at some point, she thought she noticed that there was a clear mark around his neck, like a circle going around, where the fur was thinner and greyer. It seemed that something had pressed against his neck and stopped the fur from growing.

"Look, Lydia," J'Ziir interrupted her thoughts. "There's a huge building ahead. I think we made it."

"Thank the Divines," Lydia sighed.

He stumbled on towards the massive monastery and now they both saw the steep stone steps that lead to two iron doors. J'Ziir didn't stop thinking which door was the right one, he only wanted to get inside, get away from this blasted storm. At the door, he lifted Lydia a little higher on his back, leaned forward and pushed the door open.

Silence greeted them. He faltered inside and slammed the door behind him. Lydia was completely motionless and quiet, she must have passed out, he thought. He saw an old man approach them.

"So, the Dragonborn appears, at this moment of the turning of the age..."

"Hold it, old man!" J'Ziir interrupted him. "Just let me rest for a while. This stone floor looks really...really cozy."

He felt Lydia weighing him down. He had used all of his own strength in the last steps. He leaned against the wall and slid down the floor. His eyes closed and he was fast asleep long before he hit the floor.


	21. Chapter 21

**21.**

When the Orc stepped in the longhouse, Sura's knees almost gave up. Her breathing became irregular and her hands began to tremble. She couldn't look at him. She grabbed Janessa's hand and moved behind her.

She knew it wasn't  _him_. And still, he lurked around every corner, inside every man, waiting behind every door. She saw him everywhere she looked. People around her seemed to think that she should begin to forget already. She should begin to recover. It wasn't healthy to wallow in your own sorrows that much. Everyone went through hard times every now and then, but they moved on and forgot. As the days passed and the warm summer winds swept across the city she learned to hide her real feelings. Her fear didn't leave her, her dreams didn't leave her.  _He_  didn't leave her. But when she realized that everyone wanted and waited for her to get better and to forget, she began to pretend. She smiled a little more, she took care of herself, she ate and tried to sleep. Of course, she didn't sleep and most of the time she threw up everything she ate and her smile was just a mask she wore whenever she was forced to leave her room. And she saw how they all were silently relieved. She didn't know did Janessa believe her, but the Dunmer remained quiet.

When she was alone - late in the evening when she couldn't close her eyes when she only stared at the wall and relived the nightmare over and over again - only then she allowed her hands to tremble and the tears to fall. During the days she walked around the reach and squeezed her hands together so that no one saw how much she wanted to run away and hide. She was still terrified of the guards no matter how many times Janessa ordered them to remove their helmets. Eventually, the news reached the Jarls and after some consideration, he ordered them to wear open helmets so that their faces were visible. It helped but not much. They were all still men.

On that day her nightmare materialized before her very eyes. The Orc walked to the Jarl, bowed and presented himself. He was the bodyguard of three Bards who came from Solitude, from the Bards College. Jarl Elisif the Fair wanted to congratulate his friend - Jarl Balgruuf - on his birthday. As the bards entered the reach, the Jarl stood up from his chair and glanced at the Orc.

"As if this is the time for any kind of celebration!" he huffed.

"Jarl Elisif assumed you would say that," the Orc replied. "She asked me to tell you that even among all the sorrow and sadness, there should at least be some happiness in our lives. Celebration for life amongst all the death reminds us what is important. What we are all fighting for."

"It is not only war that threatens us," Jarl Balgruuf continued, still not convinced.

"You are right, my Jarl," the Orc bowed. "Elisif the Fair has also heard of the dragons. But there is hope, she said. She knows of the Dragonborn. When we have such a hero among us, isn't there at least one more reason to celebrate."

"A hero, indeed," Jarl Balgruuf muttered and rubbed his forehead. "Very well. What are your orders, Orsimer?"

"Jarl Elisif sent these Bards to entertain you," the Orc answered. "She was regretful for not being able to attend the celebration herself. My duty was to get them here safely."

"A birthday party," Jarl Balgruuf sighed. "What nonsense. But very well, Elisif is right. We shouldn't concentrate only on the bad things. Proventus!" the Jarl turned towards his Steward. "When exactly is this tremendous day?"

"The day after tomorrow, my Jarl," Proventus Avenicci replied.

"I'll leave all the details to you then," the Jarl said.

"Very well, my Jarl," Proventus bowed. "I will do as you have instructed."

A celebration? Sura thought and immediately felt distressed. So many people here. It would be easy for  _him_  to blend in with the crowd. I can't be here then. I can't. I can't! Buried deep in her thoughts, she didn't notice the Jarl as he approached her. His presence, his shadow nearly made her jump, to run away and hide but she raised her eyes to look at him and once again forced her fear somewhere deep inside. It bounced like a ball inside her, fighting to get out, hoping to find some small crack from where to escape and she had to keep swallowing in order to hear what he said.

"So, it seems we must have a party then," the Jarl smiled. "I would like to see you smile and have fun that night. To forget what's happened to you and start enjoying your life again. I'm sure Proventus will add the Companions to the list. I'm told there is someone rather special among them that you might want to meet."

"I'll try," Sura murmured but that was all she could say. The thought that she would have to see Vilkas, face him, maybe even talk to him, made her feel even worse.  _Why would he want to look at me anymore?_ she thought. _Now that I'm...destroyed and spoiled. Damaged. Damaged goods._

The Jarl brushed her shoulder and his soft touch made her wince. She clenched her hands into tight fists and her claws dig into her palms. The Jarl smiled at her reassuringly, turned and headed upstairs but she couldn't move. The Orc was still at the longhouse. And as long as he was there, she wouldn't be able to walk.

Janessa saw her reaction and once again she wrapped her arms around her shoulder and guided her forward. When they passed him, she was sure she would either faint or scream. Probably do both at the same time.  _Keep it in!_ she told herself.  _It's not him! It's not him! He is dead!_

A few hours later Janessa left to visit the blacksmith. Apparently, she had an appointment with Adrianne. Her sword was in desperate need of repairs, the hilt was loosening and the blade had some nasty cracks in it. Now that she had some gold, she was able to get it fixed. As Janessa left Sura sat at her bed and wrapped her arms around her legs. She didn't feel comfortable about the party. Well, that was no surprise. She didn't feel comfortable about anything these days. But what made it worse. The Companions were coming. Vilkas was coming...

Don't think about that yet, she commanded herself. You still have a couple of days to get used to the idea of seeing him again. She was, of course, told that J'Ziir came after her in Mistwatch. So did Vilkas, Farkas, and Lydia. And yet she had no way of thanking them all. Words weren't enough. And now she lived in this twisted situation where she'd rather be dead than alive, live this kind of life, when memories and false images followed her around, haunted her and tormented her.

When was the last time I saw him? …when was the last time?  _The kiss._ That she remembered. And the embarrassing letter she left behind. Those made her cringe even more. Writing those words made everything seem so utterly insane.

But she remembered how that kiss made her feel. What it was like having him so close and feeling his arms and his touch. His scent. She almost buried those feelings because she was so engulfed by her horrible memories. There are some good things in this life, she tried on encourage herself. You just need to remember those moments. Just hold on to those moments, don't let them be buried and forgotten.

She glanced towards her little chest. She hadn't opened that in ages but it didn't contain much anyway. The first dagger she made in Skyforge which was dull and useless and kind of ugly too. Couple of potions, some moonstone chunks, a useless fragment of a soul gem and the blue sapphire which she and Lydia had found in their last adventure.

One blue, small dress and an ugly, dirty stuffed rabbit.

The rabbit she had discarded, she didn't like the way it looked. With its other eye missing and left ear almost torn it looked sad and depressing. She was afraid of the memories it might bring up. She wanted to know about her past and yet she was afraid to look too closely. She had buried the rabbit deep in her chest, under the dress and she never took it out.

But her dress. It was the one she had been wearing when they found her. Lydia, Lydia's kind mother, Hrongar, and the Jarl. She didn't know who bought it for her or where she got it from. Maybe someone made it. It was a simple blue dress decorated with small white flowers. When she came to Dragonsreach all those years ago, she used to hold it and carry it with her almost everywhere, hoping that it would unlock her memories and tell her where she came from. But that never happened. Still, it remained as a comfort, a fond memory that someone, somewhere had loved and cared for her.

She stood, walked to the chest and opened it slowly. She felt the thin, worn fabric underneath her fingers and she took it out. The rabbit lay underneath it, its face turned against the floor. She didn't remember that the dress was still so dirty. Of course, she thought. You didn't want to wash it. You thought it had some magic that would disappear if it was clean. That washing it washed away the faint traces of any memories that linger with it. The blue fabric was filled with big brown spots and it smelled old and decayed. She moved her hands through the hem and caressed it gently.

_"Where'd you get that drag from? It's ugly!"_

_"It's not ugly! It's pretty! Br…f bought it for me! He said it looks n…e!"_

She was startled by the voices in her head. They were light and clear, children's voices. The boy spoke teasingly and mockingly like he didn't really mean what he said and the little girl answered back with fearsome stubbornness. She looked at the dress and pressed her cheek against the soft cloth and smiled. Everything bad and horrible faded away, for just a moment.  _I might remember more, if I try harder, I might remember._

Her thoughts were interrupted by loud noises coming from the longhouse. At first, she didn't understand what was going on but then she clearly heard Lydia's voice. She was happy that Lydia came back safely and alright. She and J'Ziir had been away over two weeks and no one in Dragonsreach or in Whiterun knew exactly where they were.

Sura walked to the door. Janessa wasn't here so she was more nervous than usual to go out by herself. But it was Lydia out there, she wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. She squeezed the dirty dress in her hand and it gave her some strength. Nothing to be afraid of. It was just Lydia, the Jarl and maybe Hrongar. All familiar people, her friends, and her family. Her breathing became irregular but she forced herself to walk out of the door. Farengar wasn't in his workroom and quietly she sneaked across the room and to the big doors that lead to the longhouse. The Jarl was sitting at his chair, Lydia stood before him and her Thane leaned casually against one of the tables. He looked more than bored.

"I'm glad you two have returned safely," the Jarl said. "If I understand correctly, you went to High Hrothgar," he looked at J'Ziir. "And they Greybeards confirmed that you are the Dragonborn, isn't that right?"

"It seems so," J'Ziir nodded. "Unfortunately."

"Well, then we have one more reason to celebrate," the Jarl smiled. "You are both, of course, welcome to the party we are arranging."

"A party?" J'Ziir yawned. "Are you serious?"

"You are right, Dragonborn," the Jarl agreed. "But the people of Whiterun need a reminder that there is something good in this life, more than constant war and death. And many of them wish to celebrate my birthday. Who am I to stop them? And I can imagine that there are many, many people who wish to meet and to speak with the famous Dragonborn."

"Just count me out them," J'Ziir stated. "I'm not one of the entertainers."

"Of course you are coming!" Lydia turned to him. "Naturally we will both attend. I'll make sure of that."

Much to Sura's surprise the male Khajiit only shrugged his shoulders and leaned back. Something had changed in him, he seemed more relaxed and comfortable around Lydia, and around other people. He wasn't that angry or hateful anymore. Was he actually listening to Lydia? And Sura wondered how Lydia dared to talk back like that?

"Now, how is Sura doing?" Lydia asked that Jarl.

"I would like to believe she's better," the Jarl sighed. "But she is still very scared even though she tries to hide her feelings. Janessa's presence is good for her, she tries her best to encourage her. But we all know this is a slow process."

Sura felt more than guilty and she lowered her gaze. They had all seen through her pretense. They had all understood her real feelings even when she tried her best to pretend that nothing was wrong. That everything had been forgotten and buried. She swallowed and raised her eyes.

The Dragonborn stared right at her. There was no anger in his eyes, just curiosity…and perhaps even some sympathy. He raised his other eyebrow like he was thinking of something. Maybe walking to her, maybe even saying something. What is he thinking? Sura thought. Why is he looking at me like that? After what happened in Mistwatch, she had always felt nervous and scared when someone -  _when a man_  - looked at her. But surprisingly his gaze didn't make her feel uncomfortable. There was something there...something reached out to her. Something warm and familiar. She couldn't understand it, but simply his gaze made her beating heart calm down. She walked to the hall and circled the table. Lydia heard her steps, turned around and smiled.

"Sura!" she rushed to her and hugged her. "It's good to you see again. You look so much better."

"Hey, Lydia," she greeted. J'Ziir averted his eyes but she was surprised by her emotions. What just happened? She felt like she didn't come out willingly. She felt like something pushed her, gently and slowly.

She was still holding on to the dress and his eyes found it. It was squeezed into her hand, but the fabric, the color, and the small white flowers were very, very familiar. Eerily so. A little girl ran past his memories, laughing and giggling and he ran after her.

_"_ _It's not ugly! He said it looks nice! He is much nicer than you, J'Ziir!"_

_"_ _That's because he wants to flatter you, you little idiot!"_

_"_ _What does flatter mean?"_

_"_ _He wants to praise you,…"_

"…to make you feel important," he whispered to himself. "You little idiot."

"Who are you calling an idiot?" Lydia frowned at him. "I told you to forget about that mess with the troll already. I said I wasn't prepared!"

" _To make you feel important._ " Sura blinked her eyes and gasped. Those sounded like words someone had said to her at one point in her life. She could almost remember what she replied. Could she? The words were right there, hanging so close she could almost reach them. The Dragonborn rolled his eyes, shoved Lydia aside and strolled out of the reach. Lydia didn't bother to run after him, she knew better.

"That's because…I am important," Sura muttered quietly.


	22. Chapter 22

**22.**

J'Ziir walked down the stairs and stopped at the Wind District. He was having difficulties to breathe. One again that Khajiit girl looked so much Raji.  _Is it her?_   _Could it be?_  His mind was turning upside down. One part wanted him to turn back, to run back and demand answers. Another part just wanted to leave it all be, forget it and ignore. And yet another part ordered him to leave Whiterun, leave Skyrim and just get out of here. That fabric in her hand…was it a dress, a rag or tablecloth? Whatever it was, it reminded him or Raji's dress. Yet another link, another reminder, another fragment locked in place. And yet – it couldn't be. Couldn't be!

As he strolled around the Gildergreen and was about to walk back to the Dragonsreach, he forced himself to stop and shook his head. Don't get ahead of yourself. Just think it through. If it's not her, there is no reason to get your hopes up and then be disappointed. I mean, she said it herself. I'm not what you are looking for. And you were always sure that she died. There is no way she could have survived. But if...if she had...

Momentarily he allowed his mind to wander. If it's her...my sister...my Raji. What if she survived the fall and the river? How had she not drowned? She was living here, among these Nords. She considered this her home. She didn't remember her family, her mother, and father. She didn't remember her brothers. If it's true, Lydia is right, he thought. It was difficult to admit that his annoying housecarl might be right for a change. Skyrim was her home. And if Skyrim wasn't safe, she wouldn't be safe either.

And then there was the man she loved. He turned his gaze towards Jorrvaskr. The  _Nord_  she loved. The Nord who loved her back. The man wearing the wolf armor. The man whose eyes were grey and merciless. Who definitely was much more than just a man.

He was curious to see what the place looked like and so wandered up the stone stairs. The door wasn't locked and he didn't hesitate to go inside. The place was far from quiet that evening. Things seemed pretty heated up. Two warriors, a Dunmer and a Nord were engaged in a fistfight in the middle of the room. Others just stood around them, cheering and yelling. J'Ziir stopped at the door and the fight seemed to be over rather quickly. The strong Nord woman punched the Dunmer to the ground, looked at him with contempt and walked away. The Dunmer didn't seem too offended; he got up, brushed his arms and smiled. Only friendly sparring, nothing more.

A bald, one-eyed man stood near the doorway and J'Ziir remembered him. He was one the warriors who rushed out to his "help" on the day when he killed the dragon. He also noticed the red-haired woman with green stripes on her face. She was talking to another member of the Companions. The brother of the grey-eyed man. Similar body structure, maybe a little stronger but not as smart. J'Ziir walked closer and the woman saw him, smiled and greeted him.

"Interesting to see you here, Dragonborn," she began and extended her hand. "Welcome to Jorrvaskr. I'm Aela. This is my shield-brother Farkas."

Reluctantly he shook their hands. He was on their ground so begrudgingly he obeyed their rules. He didn't come here for needless small talk. He wasn't exactly sure why he came here at all.

"Looking for someone?" Farkas asked when he saw him glancing around.

"No," he said. "Just curious."

"Are you planning to join the Companions?" Aela inquired.

"No," he repeated. "I have enough problems in my life.

"Suit yourself," Farkas grunted and walked away. He headed to the other side of the hall and greeted an old man who stood by the stairs. The old man nodded, then shifted his one good eye to the Khajiit. His gaze was like a challenge, an invitation. Come to meet me, talk to me, if you dare. That knowing stare made him uncomfortable. He stood around for a while longer and then he headed to the door.

"You're leaving?" the old Nord walked up to him. "Without even taking a good look around?"

"I'm not here to join your party, old man," J'Ziir said. "I was..."

"Looking for Vilkas?" he said. "He is downstairs if you wish to speak with him."

"Why would I want to talk to him?" J'Ziir immediately grew suspicious. How did the old man know why he came here? And what would he talk about with the Nord? His growing suspicion that it was actually his dead sister who that man was in love with.

"Because of Sura, of course," he answered. "You both have feelings for the girl. Vilkas shares a connection with her and so do you. Aren't you interested to know what you two have in common?"

J'Ziir's eyes grew cold, his ears drew back and his tail swiped from side to side. What does he know? He knows something that I don't. Or he pretends to know something.

"I'll be downstairs if you are interested to talk or if you wish to know more of the Companions," the old man said.

"I told you, I'm not here for that," J'Ziir repeated.

"'Nevertheless," he smiled and walked away. Is he really expecting me to follow him? J'Ziir thought. And oddly enough he did want to follow, to know more, to hear more. Hear all he had to say, all he had to tell. But after his daring escape, he never let anyone control him - he hated being controlled. He gritted his teeth and turned away. He didn't have anything to say to the old man, he didn't belong here.

And his foolish idea that the Khajiit girl was Raji, well, that's just your heart talking. And this wasn't the first time when he shut his heart down. He hadn't listened to it for years. Why should he start now?


	23. Chapter 23

**23.**

Everyone in Whiterun was celebrating Jarl Balgruuf's birthday. The big party in the Dragonsreach started early in the afternoon and as the evening approached, more and more people came up the reach and offered their heartwarming congratulations to the Jarl. Everyone in Whiterun was invited, the Jarl didn't discriminate.

It was exactly the kind of thing J'Ziir hated. He didn't like gatherings and he only wished that at some point he could just slip out unnoticed. But that seemed impossible. Everyone wanted to meet the Dragonborn, wanted to shake his hand, even give him a hug and thank him for saving Whiterun and Skyrim. The fact that he was a Khajiit didn't seem to bother anyone. But J'Ziir was having a hard time not push the people aside and just rudely walk out.

He was not the only one who was suffering that evening. Sura was more anxious and afraid that she had been ever since she was rescued. Wherever she looked, she saw him somewhere in the crowd, stalking her. But before she could make out his features, he always managed to slip away. Janessa was with her and Lydia stayed by her side, but still, she glanced around like a trapped animal, looking for a way out.

She hadn't slept in almost two nights. Her frantic mind was playing tricks on her, she knew that. The bards were playing joyful music and their heavenly voices were beautiful but Sura could barely hear them. She only heard her own heartbeat and felt her cold her hands were, how sweat trickled down her spine. But on one of those sleepless nights, her anguished mind came up with a plan and if she could only have few moments to herself, this would all be over very soon.

She didn't notice how many worried eyes watched her during the evening. Lydia and Janessa kept their gaze on her, the Jarl observed her and Farengar came to see her every now and then. Even Vilkas couldn't tear his eyes away. He hadn't seen her in days, in weeks in fact. And he never saw her so timid, so scared and it weighed on his heart. He didn't try to get close to her. Her reaction to every man was the same. She took a few steps back, lowered her eyes and tried to be as invisible as possible. So he didn't try to approach her. Watching her from afar, that had to be enough. The future he had hoped they might share someday was now lost for good.

There was one more person watching her. The eyes of the Dragonborn swiped by her every now and then. He also steered clear of her, but he was looking for something familiar, some signs or a gesture that would finally tell him the truth. He hated this uncertainty. Despite his solemn decision, he still looked for answers. He wanted to be sure, to be sure that she wasn't Raji, and he could finally give up his foolish hope and concentrate on other things. He had postponed his original plans for way too long, it was time to get back on track.

Sura was wearing a blue dress. She had the necklace, J'Ziir could see that. But it wasn't glowing like all those years ago when Raji wore it. He kept his eyes on her as he moved around. Very soon he noticed Vilkas was also watching her. His eyes were filled with yearning, longing, pain, and anger. He recognized the anger, he carried it with himself for a long time. He knew what it was like to feel powerless, to stop bad things from happening to someone you loved.

J'Ziir was amazed and partly furious when he noticed that Sura wasn't the only lady that caught his attention that night. Amazed that he noticed her and furious that his eyes refused to leave her. No matter how much he tried to deny it he simply could not avoid her. Ignore her. Over and over his eyes sought her out from the crowd. His housecarl wasn't wearing her usual steel armor that night. She was actually wearing a gown. And for the first time, he noticed that there was actually very, very much to see. While her armor covered her chest and her backside, this red dress revealed every voluptuous curve. He was furious to notice how attracted he was to her. How aroused he was. Exited to caress her with his eyes. He would have liked to order her to change her gown to her normal armor. But since it couldn't be helped, he tried to keep his eyes away from her with a little success.

And even more agonizing was the memory. The words they had exchanged some time ago in the small bedroom at the Bannered Mare.  _"For you to find out that this cat actually…thinks you as a…a…something more than an irritating, intolerable Nord."_ Did I really say that to her? J'Ziir closed his eyes and sighed. Who knows what she got into her head after that? Maybe that was the reason she wore that ridiculous gown tonight. Because she believed that he might consider her  _"something more"_ , whatever that meant. It didn't occur to him that Lydia completely forgot his words and wore the dress because she was sick and tired to wear her armor all the time.

The food and the drink that the Jarl was offering to his guests was delicious. Everyone seemed to enjoy the party. The Jarl greeted his guests and walked among the people. Irileth was like an angry ghost that followed him everywhere. Jarl Balgruuf was happy to see the Companions and he stopped to talk with them for a long time. Then he continued onwards and greeted J'Ziir who was having difficulties to keep all the eager young women at bay. Suddenly all the women in Whiterun were interested in him, some were practically throwing themselves at him.

"Are you enjoying the party, Dragonborn?" the Jarl asked and smiled at him. As usual, he didn't smile back.

"To be honest, I'm not," he replied.

"Well, that is unfortunate," the Jarl replied but his eyes and smile told otherwise. J'Ziir could swear that the Jarl was pleased to see him being teased and bothered.

"Isn't it marvelous to see the hope in our people's faces?" the Jarl asked him and looked around. "After such troubled times, to see them laugh, relax and have a good time. This," he opened his arms as to embrace all of the Whiterun. "This is why I am glad to see you here. You, Dragonborn, give them hope. Simply seeing you and hearing stories about you make them believe that our land could be peaceful, safe place to live once again."

"Not everyone is so relaxed and happy," J'Ziir mentioned and once again his eyes found the Khajiit girl. She clearly wanted to turn and run. It seemed almost too cruel to force her to stay here, to force her to be surrounded by all these people, no matter how familiar they were to her.

"Yes," the Jarl nodded and sadness covered his face momentarily. "But I have known here most of her life. She is not as fragile as she thinks. Like this land, she is tough and persistent. She may bend but she will not break."

_Keep living in your fantasy world, old man,_  J'Ziir thought, grabbed his drink and walked away. The Jarl was popular and didn't seem to mind his abrupt exit. Soon enough he was surrounded by his people again and his warm, loud laughter filled the air. To J'Ziir's liking, the Jarl was too soft and too idealistic. He had managed to stay neutral so far, but sooner or later the raging war in the land would catch up with him. Then his softness would only be his downfall.

He walked away from the crowd and wandered into the court wizard's workroom. It was quiet and empty and no one saw him enter. A perfect place for him to catch his breath and then slip away silently and unnoticed. He thought that the grumpy wizard wouldn't leave his work, he didn't seem much of the partying type, least of all because of some meaningless gathering. And yet the wizards seemed to be enjoying himself, the people around him and especially one special lady. The owner of the alchemy shop was smiling and laughing with him openly and their mutual attraction was visible to everyone.

J'Ziir shook his head, gulped down the rest of his drink and started to inspect the room. He had never been that interested in magic. His father knew some small tricks but that was about it. Khajiits weren't known for their magical talents. He glanced at the many bottles and vials in glass cabinets with difficult names, pouches of different ingredients and powders. Troll skulls and mammoth tusks gathered dust in the highest shelves. He didn't know where they part of the wizard's experiments or just useless random junk he collected. Some old spell books were stuck under the furniture and Farengar's table was filled with empty bottles, alchemy recipes and soul gems of different shapes and sizes.

He looked around curiously and eventually stopped at Sura's door. It was ajar which meant she wasn't as careful as before. He made sure no one saw what he was about to do and then slowly pushed the door open with his foot. He'd seen it once before, it was small and tidy and revealed nothing personal of its owner. At first glance, he saw nothing that would interest him but as he was turning back, his eyes found the small chest pushed against the wall, right next to the door.

He left the door slightly ajar, exactly as it had been, so it wouldn't seem suspicious. He would hear if someone came into the wizard's room. He crouched down and tried to open the chest. Locked, no surprise there. The lock didn't seem too sturdy, he faced more difficult challenges. He pulled his out trusty dagger and just a few careful jiggles and one satisfying click later, he stared at her insignificant worldly possessions. Some potions, the same red vials that she had given him when they had first seen each other. Gold, not much but probably enough for her. And the dirty, old fabric – a dress? a cloth? - he had seen before. He touched it, caressed the old fabric and took it in his hands. What was buried underneath it, caught him totally by surprise.

Suddenly he was twelve again and trying to sew back the ear he tore off from his sister stuffed rabbit. He clearly remembered his mother's stern gaze, how she stood beside him and didn't allow him to leave until the ear was sewn back. He saw Raji's teary eyes but also a glint of happiness when she realized that her bunny wasn't completely ruined and soon enough it had both of its ears back.

The blood rushed through his brains, he heard his own heartbeat in his ears as he reached out for the old memory, for the old stuffed toy. It was missing its other eye and like the dress, it was dirty and stinky and abandoned. He saw the stitches, the sloppy, careless seam that he made. After it was done, his mother gently pulled the ear to make sure that it was properly in its right place. And then she pulled his ear, not so gently. It was a lesson that he never forgot.

He could barely stand, it was like his knees were made of jelly. All this time he only tried to find reasons to deny everything, to deny the dead person in front of him. The anger he had so long nurtured and carried along with him blinded his eyes. Even when the most obvious things told him otherwise, the necklace, the dress and now, the stuffed rabbit. But this meant he could no longer keep his eyes closed.

He stepped outside, still holding the rabbit in his other hand, half leaning against the wall. His brain tried to tell him what this all meant, how he would able to cope with this. As Sura walked into the room, there was nowhere he could hide but he didn't have the strength or the will to do so.

She didn't see him and he didn't know what he could say. He didn't want to move, he could only watch her, absorb her presence. The past and the present came crashing down, all in a huge mess that clouded his mind. That's why he couldn't really tell what she was doing, couldn't react in time, wasn't able to stop her.

Sura was rummaging through one of the cabinets, frantically looking for something. She didn't care if she ruined Farengar's carefully laid out order, she was looking for a certain potion. No, she thought. Not a potion.  _A poison._ Farengar gave it to her once, only a small amount to help her sleep. But she also remembered his words.

_"It will make sure that you sleep without dreams. This is the maximum amount you can take. If you drink more, you will die."_

_"You will die..."_

In her current situation, that didn't sound too bad.

_"You will die."_

She stole the key from the wizard and lost both Janessa and Lydia somewhere in the crowd. Now was her only chance. If she could forget, sleep without dreams, sleep without seeing  _him,_ without hearing him, without smelling him, her life would be a fair trade. It wasn't much of a life anyway, she thought as she found what she was looking for. The bright, blue liquid which Farengar had sealed in the rearmost part of the cabinet. She grabbed it and squeezed the small bottle in her hands, her only way out of this misery, and she wasn't about to let it go.

_Don't hesitate_ , she told herself.  _You don't need to think about this._

She opened the bottle. The sweet, overpowering scent of the liquid surrounded her.  _Quickly_ , she told herself.  _Before someone finds you!_ She lifted the bottle to her lips, closed her eyes for a second, swallowed and then she drank the whole bottle. Her hands shook as the small glass vial dropped to the floor and shattered to small pieces.

_"You will die..."_

The sound of breaking glass woke J'Ziir from his dreamlike state. He shook his head, the rabbit fell to the floor with a soft thud. She spun around and saw him standing at her door. It should have been odd to see him there, but it wasn't. It was almost natural as she waited for him to be there. Her head began to spin and she had to lean against the table for support. She looked at him through a grey haze, her eyes began to cloud and it was slowly getting harder to breathe.

"That's mine," she whispered and pointed at the rabbit.

In mere seconds she lost her balance and he ran to her, grabbed her by her arms and shook her violently.

"What did you take?" he demanded but she was barely able to hear him. "Raji!"

"I just...want to forget," she mumbled against his chest. His body was warm and strong, she heard his heartbeat against her ear. A good place to fall asleep, she thought.

_A safe place._


	24. Chapter 24

**24.**

The party was over.

The Reach was quiet.

The great longhouse was empty and abandoned. Even Irileth was gone from her usual post near the Jarl's throne. The guards were silent and the servants carefully cleaned up the place.

The lifeless body of the young Khajiit girl was carried upstairs and laid upon the Jarl's bed. The room was filled with people. Lydia was kneeling beside the bed, sobbing, holding her cold hand and calling her name. The Jarl walked back and forth, from his personal study to his bedroom and back again. Farengar and Danica Pure-Spring did their best, both casting spells, using their power and energy but eventually, they glanced at each other,  _\- we have to give up_ , hope fading slowly away.

Vilkas and Farkas stood near the door, both brothers were quiet and uncomfortable. They wanted to do something, help somehow, but this was out of their reach. Farkas sensed his brother's anxiety and placed his hand on his shoulder. Janessa stood next to them. Her face was emotionless. After a while, she turned, placed the gold received from Jarl to a nearby table and then she left the reach. A few days later someone saw her leaving Whiterun.

Lydia's teary eyes searched for her Thane and when she finally found him, she stood up, walked towards him and smacked him in the face. He didn't try to stop, accepted her anger because it was nothing compared to his own feelings. She wanted to hit him again and she raised her hand to do just that, but the look in his eyes stopped her. Her hand froze in mid-air. She had never witnessed such regret, such loss in anyone's eyes. And she now saw all those feelings in her Thane's eyes. It was too hard to believe, like the world suddenly turned upside down. Sura was lying there dying and the Dragonborn had remorseful feelings. It was something that that was not supposed to happen. She could somewhat understand his hatred towards the Nords and their country. But Sura wasn't a Nord! Why hadn't he stopped her? Why hadn't he intervened? If he'd done something, Sura wouldn't be... _no! Don't go there!_ Lydia told herself.  _She is not going die!_

"Farengar!" the Jarl stepped into the room. "How is she doing?"

"Miraculously, she is still alive," Farengar sighed. "But she's fading, fast."

"What did she took?" Lydia spun around and her pleading eyes looked for answers in the court wizard's face.

"One of the strongest poisons I have," Farengar said. "Falmer blood, chaurus poison…frostbite…how she got the key is beyond me. I always keep it with me, but..."

"Is there an antidote?" Vilkas cut in.

"No," Farengar shook his head.

Silence fell in the room. Farengar and Danica stepped away from the bed. Neither of them looked at the Jarl. Lydia shook her head, she refused to believe this.

"There is nothing you can do then?" J'Ziir finally said what everyone else was afraid ask.

"There is nothing I can do," Farengar admitted silently.

"There has to be a way!" Lydia screamed, kneeled next to the bed again, took Sura's hand and wept. "We can't just give up! There has to be a way!"

"It's what she wanted," J'Ziir said and they all looked at him, disbelief and shock in their faces. "None of you understood. You forced her out. She relived that nightmare over and over again. What was it you said, Jarl?  _She will bend but not break!_ Well, she's been broken for a long time."

"What would you have us do then?" the Jarl asked. "Leave her in the room, where she would have buried herself alive. Would it have been any better to let her starve? To let her die!"

"In the end," J'Ziir looked at him. "She chose death anyway."

"Stop it!" Lydia interrupted him. "Stop it. Don't say that! She's not dead! She doesn't need to hear this...she..."

"Wait!" Farengar suddenly lifted his head. There was hope in his voice and everyone looked up at him. "Maybe...maybe there is someone who can help."

"Who?" Vilkas asked and stepped forward. He was ready to leave immediately, even if it meant leaving Skyrim, going to Cyrodiil or even as far as Elsweyr. He didn't know how much they had time, but the sooner they left, the sooner they could get help.

"The Arch-Mage at the College of Winterhold," Farengar said. "Savos Aren is a wise man, he knows everything about magic that there is to know. The college also has more knowledge of potions and spells than me. If he could help..."

"We are going," Vilkas signaled to his brother and he nodded. "We will bring the wizard back before tomorrow."

"One more thing," Farengar quickly scribbled down the recipe for the poison Sura had used. "Give this to him, he knows what has happened."

"Dragonborn," the Jarl turned around but realized that the Khajiit was nowhere to be seen. He wanted to ask him to go along with the Companions, but once again the silent predator slipped away unnoticed.

* * *

Winterhold was a small, insignificant village, covered by snow and isolated by the sea and high, rugged cliffs. The wind was sharp and cut right through his cuirass, but he was finally here. He hadn't waited for the wolf brothers but he knew they weren't far behind. An hour, maybe less. All he needed now was to find the College and the Arch-Mage.

The ride from Whiterun to the North coast of Skyrim was long and exhausting but he pushed on and stopped only to feed his horse or give it a quick rest. He knew the animal was tired, the cold wind, the long distance, and the constant snowfall exhausted the sturdy mare. As he rode through the village, the sun cast its early morning rays to the high mountains. The snow and the ice sparkled and only a few guards walked around but other than that, the village was quiet and empty.

The college was huge, very impressive building which was hard to miss. It was built upon a natural stone formation, using the steep and effective attractiveness of its surroundings. The massive building was off-putting and quiet. It left the rest of the village in its shadow and an ominous presence lingered around it. J'Ziir didn't really wonder why mages and magic weren't very popular in Skyrim.

He jumped off his horse, snow creaked under his boots and the air he exhaled vaporized. His fur kept him warm and he was slowly getting used to the cold climate of the land. He glanced at the stone walls and high towers. So, this is where the mages hid. A perfect little place in a remote corner of the world. A defensible position, no need to take any part in what's happening outside these walls. He strode up the stone ramp and was greeted by a young Altmer sorceress. She was the gatekeeper of the college and anyone who wanted to enter had to go through her.

"Greetings," she said courteously. "How can I help you?"

"This the college, right?" J'Ziir started.

"Yes, this is it," the woman answered. "A safe haven for mages in Skyrim, a place of wisdom and arcane knowledge."

"I'm here to see the Arch-Mage," J'Ziir stated. "Where is he?"

"I'm sorry," the woman smiled at him apologetically. "The Arch-Mage is a busy man. Unless you state your business, I can't allow you to see him."

"Can I see him, or do I have to find him myself?" J'Ziir was tired, hungry and this woman was getting on his nerves.

"Like I said," she repeated patiently. "He is a busy man. Please tell me why you wish to see him."

"Where is he?" J'Ziir stepped ahead but the Altmer blocked his way. Instinctively he reached out for his ax, but she backed away, assumed a defensible stand and her hands filled with flames. He reconsidered his actions. Maybe violence wasn't the best option here. Her eyes were now dark and threatening.

"This is not a place where you can push your way in with brute force," the Altmer said sternly. "Only those who come with peaceful intentions are allowed in."

"We are not here to cause trouble," a calm voice behind J'Ziir stated. "We came to get help."

The Altmer lowered her hands but she kept her eyes on the angry looking Khajiit. He seemed fierce and dangerous, powerful and quick. Her duty was to defend the college and she was confident in her own abilities.

The wolf brothers came, at last, J'Ziir thought and glanced back. He had to admit, they were formidable warriors and seemed durable and hardy. And they had gained him much faster than he anticipated. The two men joined him at the gate and he was slightly surprised to see Farkas flashing an encouraging smile to him. Are we suddenly friends? he wondered.

"There is a sick girl in Whiterun," Vilkas assumed his role as the natural leader. "She is dying. The Arch-Mage is the only one who might be able to help. We were sent by the Jarl's court wizard, Farengar Secret-Fire."

"All of you?" the Altmer seemed suspicious. "Even...him?" she pointed at the Khajiit.

"Even him," Vilkas nodded.

"Very well," she finally nodded. "Follow me."

"Just like my brother always says," Farkas nudged J'Ziir in the shoulder. "Use your words, not your swords."

She led them through the crumbly and decaying path, warned them to watch their step. The college had lost it glory during the years and its most magical times were far behind. They walked through a circular inner courtyard where a massive stone statue spread its arms as to welcome the visitors but also show the power the mages inside wielded. Despite the massive size of the building, the place felt empty, almost abandoned.

She guided them to the spacious hall and asked them to wait. Three stone steps led to a lower platform and the hall was governed by a bright blue beam in its center. They hadn't seen anyone else along the way. It was early morning, the sun had barely risen and its tinted, golden light shone through the windows.

She excused herself and the three men were left to stand around waiting and watching. Time seemed to crawl, every breath, sigh, and sound was amplified by the high ceiling. They didn't talk to each other and the neither of the brothers asked why J'Ziir had come to Winterhold by himself or why he left before them. All that mattered was the Arch-Mage. And the small, lingering hope that there was something he might be able to do.

They didn't know how long they had waited. After a while, the Altmer returned to them. Few steps behind her walked a Dunmer. His red eyes searched their faces and he was eager to hear what they had to say. It wasn't very often that the college received visitors. He had expertise in many different fields of magic. An aura of peace radiated from him and he greeted them with a calm, steady voice.

"Welcome to the College of Winterhold," he extended his hand. "I am Arch-Mage Savos Aren. Faralda here told me that you are in need of my help. What can I do for you?"

"A Khajiit girl in Whiterun is dying," Vilkas cut right to the chase and gave him the note that Farengar had entrusted him with. "She drank a whole bottle of this poison. Farengar sent us here in hopes that you might be able to save this girl."

"Hmm," Savos Aren took the note and read it. He knew immediately the poison in question and he also realized there was no antidote for it. A sad occurrence indeed. "Wait," he suddenly turned to look at them. Something caught his attention. "You said you wish to save the girl. Do you mean she is still alive?"

"She was, when we left," J'Ziir nodded.

The Dunmer turned to him and only now it seemed as he truly noticed him. He stared at him, stepped forward and something changed in his eyes. It was a minor change, no one else caught it, but somehow the Arch-Mage  _knew_  him. Or at least he thought he did. He opened his mouth, he clearly wanted to say something, a name maybe but then the moment was over, he shook his head and turned to Faralda.

"Go to the Arcanaeum," he said to her. "Tell Urag it's time. He'll understand."

The Altmer left and the Arch-Mage focused his intention to his visitors once more. He tried not look at the Khajiit but eventually, he could not help himself. The Dunmer's eyes lingered in his face, in his scars, his wounds and he clearly saw all the suffering he had endured. His eyes reflected pity and sadness but his voice was steady. "I will come with you. I can't promise anything until we get there, but I have a strong feeling that we can save her. Now, if you'll excuse me, I will go gather my things."

He left the Hall of Elements and walked to the doors that led to his quarters. What do I need to take with me? Urag would bring him the books, the letters, the diary. All he needed was his satchel and some potions and herbs. And if the girl was still alive, there was only one explanation.

_The necklace._

And if she had her half, they only needed the other part.

On the foyer he slowed down, stopped and looked back.  _Just like his father_ , he thought _. The same passion, the same burning eyes. It is almost like he has returned, after all these years. But the hate, that was different. And there was anger, it was right beneath the surface, ready to erupt like a volcano. Had the boy seen what happened to his family?_

_His father knew what would happen._

_That's why the Eye existed._


	25. Chapter 25

**25.**

The college had its own carriage and a driver and the Arch-Mage insisted on using it. It would be a much more comfortable way to travel, especially in his age, he said. Most of the journey went by in silence, only the cold wind whispered its mysteries. J'Ziir was extremely relieved when they eventually arrived, he was having enough of the Arch-Mages relentless attention. Earlier that morning, when they left Winterhold behind, he asked why the Dunmer kept staring at him. What was he looking for? His only answer was " _who_ ". His patience wore thin and so he left the Dunmer in his carriage and rode ahead. And still, he could feel his red eyes drilling in the back of his head.

The Jarl and the court wizard were eagerly awaiting them at the longhouse. Farengar greeted the Arch-Mage delightfully and without a moments delay, led him upstairs where the unconscious girl still lay in the bed. They were all relieved to know that she was still alive. Lydia hadn't moved from her side, she slept next to her, stood guard and monitored her breathing, prayed and wished and hoped that she would be able to go on. When she saw the Dunmer approach them, a sigh of relief escaped her lips.  _Finally_ , she thought.

The Arch-Mage sat on the bed next to the girl and took her cold hand on his own. He closed his eyes and was silent for a moment. A calming, golden glow surrounded them and the people in the room simply watched. Finally, he opened his eyes, set his hand on her forehead and nodded. He took her necklace in his hand, closed it in his fist for a while and as he opened it, the jewel shined. It was like an enchanted sapphire in his hand, sparkling gently against his blue skin. He turned to look at J'Ziir and reached out his other hand.

"I need your half as well," he said and J'Ziir frowned. He touched his necklace and swallowed. The Arch-Mage saw his hesitation. "Uniting the Eye is the only way to save your sister."

Lydia gasped. Hadn't she known this all along? She had! But she didn't expect things to come to light in such a dramatic way. J'Ziir felt their eyes on him, filled with amazement and disbelief. He took a deep breath and told himself to analyze the situation later. He removed the jewel, held it in his hand for a moment and then gave it to the Dunmer. He nodded, lifted Sura's head enough to slip it on her neck and laid her back down. The other part of the jewel reacted and the same glow enveloped it. He turned the two crescent moons against each other, recited few unfamiliar words and they all watched as the two parts locked in place. The moons turned into eyelids, both parts extended a semicircle and produced a magical, glowing pupil in the middle. It was bright blue and it lighted the whole room, it was more radiant than all the candles and flames put together.

The Arch-Mage laid the amulet to Sura's chest and the unconscious girl sighed silently. He pulled the warm furs on top of her, stood up and smiled.

"She needs four to five days but after that, she should be alright," he assured.

"What is that?" Farengar asked with endless curiosity. "I've never seen anything like it."

"It's called a Dragon's Eye," the Arch-Mage explained. "It's one its kind, the only one in existence. It was made by a powerful wizard, a colleague and a dear friend of mine, years ago. This is the first time I have seen it completed. But the power in each half is immense and that is what kept her alive long enough. Now that the amulet is completed, it will erase the poison in her and restore her will to live."

"How did you know?" J'Ziir stared at the Dunmer.

"I knew your father," the Arch-Mage said. "And I saw your half of the necklace. But when I heard that the girl is still alive my suspicions were confirmed. There was only one power that was strong enough to keep her alive. Her half of Eye."

Lydia stood up but was still afraid to leave her friend alone. "She will live?"

"Yes, she will," Savos Aren assured her.

"Thank the Divines," she sighed. Only now, after hours of being stressed, stricken with grief and full of worry, she noticed how tired she was. How exhausted and how heavy her limbs felt.

"Lydia," the Jarl said. "Go get some rest. As the Arch-Mage said, she will be fine now."

"I would like to stay here nevertheless," she insisted but the Jarl was adamant. Farengar and the Arch-Mage were the only ones who were allowed to stay in the room. Everyone else was ordered out.

"I know she is your family," the Jarl said to J'Ziir when he refused to leave. "But she is also my family. You both have waited for years, I'm sure you can wait a couple more days. Now - I would appreciate if you took care of Lydia. Whether you like it or not, she is your housecarl."

"I released her if you don't remember," he grunted. "She can take care of herself for all I care. There is someone else I need to be with."

"Please," the Jarl asked. "Lydia is my niece. I entrust her to your care."

The Jarl was stubborn and hard-headed. He closed the doors to his bedroom and guided J'Ziir away. He was impatient and thought about forcing his way in. What right did they have to separate them now? But when the Jarl ordered his irritating Dunmer housecarl to guard duty, he realized that waiting was his only choice. He didn't want to be thrown in the reach's prison.

He turned to leave only to see his tired housecarl making her way downstairs. She could barely walk and like a drunkard, she swung from side to side. And what was even more ridiculous, she was still wearing the same, revealing red dress that she had worn in the Jarl's party. Seeing her condition, he felt a sudden pinch somewhere inside him, like someone pricked him with a needle. He already half accepted his attraction towards her but that was all he would accept. And he knew lust had nothing to do with feelings. In his travels, he'd seen people who hated each other but still lusted after one another like two dogs in heat. But since she stayed by Sura's side all this time, taking her back home would be like paying a debt. And he always paid his debts. He walked after her and grabbed her by the arm.

"Come on," he said. "I'll take you home."

"I have a bed in the barracks," she told him. "That's my home. And I can get there myself, thank you very much, my Thane."

"You can barely walk straight," J'Ziir snapped. "Now, follow me and don't argue."

"Or what?" she raised her other eyebrow. "Are you going to knock me unconscious?"

"I might," he snarled. "If it makes you easier to handle."

"That's your solution to everything, isn't it?" Lydia slapped his hand. "As long as things are easy to handle, everything is alright. Well, my Thane. I think your simple life just got a lot more complicated. Now you actually have something to fight for."

"Keep your mouth shut," he dragged her along. "Nothing has changed."

"Nothing has changed?" she was astonished. "Are you insane? I mean...with all due respect, my Thane, but still!"

"What was I thinking? It was foolish of me to offer to help you," he let go of her hand and immediately regretted his softhearted decision of taking her home. But now she was livid, almost fully awake and followed in his footsteps.

"Now do you see what I meant," Lydia grabbed his shoulder but he shook her off and continued on. "Your sister, your reason to fight and save this land."

"No," he turned to face her. "I found her, yes. But I can take her with me and leave. Neither one of us belongs here. This is not our home."

"This is her home," Lydia argued and hurried after him. They rushed through the silent Market and towards the main gate. "It's been her home as long as she remembers. And the man she loves lives here! She doesn't remember you! To her, you are just a vulgar stranger!"

He stopped on his tracks. He refused to think about it, that she still wouldn't recognize him. That there would only be a black, empty void where her real family should have been. That she would actually choose these Nords rather than him. And why wouldn't she? What had he done to keep her safe? Even when he had known the truth but denied it.

"J'Ziir?" Lydia walked next to him and touched his hand. "Are...are you alright? I didn't mean to say that, it was rude of me. I know she will remember you eventually and..."

"Don't comfort me," he growled. "Let's go."

Lydia gave up. He didn't want to talk about it, like always. And she was too tired to argue with him. But eventually, he would have to face the truth and expect it. Or lose his sister all over again.

"Get inside," J'Ziir stopped at the door of a medium-sized house. It was right next to the Warmaiden's and Lydia was always sad to see this place so empty and quiet. She really liked that house, admired it. It wasn't too big or too small, it had a spacious downstairs and a small bathroom just behind the stairs. It had two medium sized bedrooms upstairs. All in all, it was a very cozy little place. If she could have chosen where to live in Whiterun, it would have been in Breezehome. But her measly payment was never enough and her father always reminded her that she would have a house of her own when she and Hadvar were married. He opened the door and waved her in.

"Wait...what?" Lydia followed him. "What is going on?"

"You always complain that I don't have a place to stay," J'Ziir sighed. "Now I do. Go upstairs and get some rest. The small room on the left is yours. I have things to do."

"You bought a house?" Lydia grinned and teased him. "When?"

"What does it matter?" he turned to leave. "I have a house and you have a place to stay. I don't want to hear anything more about it. I'm leaving, get some rest," he ordered and slammed the door shut behind him.

Lydia looked around and even his angry exit couldn't ruin her good mood. She was tired and sore and her muscles were aching but for the first time in ages, she felt happy. Sura would survive and she would help her recover and deal with her bad memories. And what was even more amazing - her Thane had finally listened to her and bought himself a house. And not just any house. Breezehome.

She peeked into the little room under the stairs and saw a wide, wooden bathtub in the corner. There was also two big barrels of warm and cold water. Lydia giggled -  _did you planned this for me, my Thane?_  Impossible, that would be too much to expect. She removed her gown, threw it on the floor and filled the tub with steaming water. She added some lavender leaves and tundra cotton and sighed as the warm, scented liquid embraced her body. Things were finally starting to look better, she thought and closed her eyes.


	26. Chapter 26

**26.**

J'Ziir headed back to the Reach. He knew he couldn't see Sura, but if the Arch-Mage was still around, he could at least get some answers from him. Even if he was vague, spoke in riddles and gave him unclear and obscure remarks, the Dunmer would have some answers.

The longhouse was as empty as before. The Jarl had probably gone to get some rest but he heard voices from the wizard's room. He stopped at the door and saw the two men sitting and talking. Farengar was asking questions about the jewel, who had made it and what kind of powers were attached to it. The Dunmer was reluctant to answer and as soon as he noticed him, he seemed very relieved.

"Ah," Farengar greeted him. "I believe you two have things to talk about. Maybe we can continue this conversation tomorrow, Arch-Mage."

"I'm afraid I have to get back to the Winterhold," Savos Aren answered. "I can't leave the college unattended for too long."

"Of course, I understand," Farengar said but he was clearly disappointed. It wasn't every day that you came across something so new and fascinating. Eventually, he wished them good night and retreated to his room. Savos Aren stood up from his chair and walked calmly to the quiet longhouse. J'Ziir's eyes followed him and as he sat down, he walked up to him, slammed his hands on the table and leaned forward.

"Alright, mage, no more mysteries," he said. "You are going to tell me what I want to know. And if you lie..."

"You look so much like your father," the Arch-Mage interrupted him. "Jo'Azirr."

He backed away from the table.  _That name!_ He hadn't heard it in such a long time. No one in his family ever used his father's real name. Even his mother - she just called him Zirr.  _Jo'azirr_... too many memories rushed back at the same time, flooded his mind, and he was unable to stop any of them.

"I'm sure you have many questions, my boy," the Arch-Mage said calmly and pulled out a chair next to him. "You don't have to threaten me. Sit and I will tell you whatever I know and remember."

For the first time in ages, he was ready to listen. And the more he told, the more he wanted to know. Savos Aren began to tell him the story about his father, of a father he had never known, long before he or his sister were born. It was a story that he never heard, it contained things he never wanted to know. As a boy, he didn't care about his parents past, it was enough to know they were there. There to protect him and Raji. He remembered his father's interest in magic, he had mastered some simple tricks and he collected soul gems for decoration. What the Arch-Mage told him painted a whole new picture in front of his eyes.

Savos Aren and Jo'azirr were good friends and colleagues. Jo'azirr was one of the most talented mages he ever knew. When he became the Arch-Mage of the College, he invited his friend to Winterhold where he stayed for many years, not only studying but also teaching as one of their Master Wizards. He made an interesting addition to the College since there were so few Khajiit mages in Skyrim. He knew the most powerful conjuration and destruction spells like the back of his hands and he was always eager to teach others and share the discoveries he made. When he eventually left the College, they agreed to stay in touch through letters and messages.

J'Ziir didn't understand. If his father was such a great wizard if he indeed wielded so much power, how could his life end so miserably? Why didn't he protect his family? He clearly remembered that his father had not used his powers. He didn't lift a finger against their attackers. He simply gave up.

"And the amulet?" J'Ziir wanted to know. "The Eye."

"It was your father's project," Savos Aren explained. "His heritage. He told me very little of it. I only know how to unite the pieces and what spells to recite to make it whole. But what spells he poured into, I can't say. If I'd had to guess, I'd say some very powerful healing magic. But I do know why he made it. To protect you and your sister."

The Dunmer told him everything he could, the rest he would have to find out for himself. The Arch-Mage took out three leather books from his satchel. They were old and dusty and J'Ziir recognized his father's handwriting. The Arch-Mage stacked them on the table in front of him.

"Here," he said. "These were the last letters and diaries your father sent to me. In one of his letters, he urged me to give them to you when you were old enough. I believe that day has come. I haven't read them, but I'm sure they contain more answer for you. I hope you will find what you are looking for, my boy."

"How did he know that I would come to you?" J'Ziir asked.

"Like he knew everything else that would happen," the Arch-Mage said. "Read them, son. Let your father explain his actions."

Time crawled on but he didn't touch the books. It was too much too soon. He had come to this wretched land to revenge the death of his family. He didn't care about himself, he would have been content to die after his purpose was fulfilled. But suddenly he found his dead sister - and he also became the legend of these Nords. A legend he didn't want to be.

_This is what I was after_ , he thought to himself.  _Answers_.  _I never knew why. Now I have a chance to know_. He touched one of the books, caressed its leather cover, took a deep breath and opened it.

_What do you have to say for yourself, father?_   _If you knew all this would happen, then you also knew what I would have to go through. And you can't expect me to forget or forgive that. And if you knew...why didn't you save me? Why didn't you prevent it from happening?_

The first pages were filled with words written in haste, barely understandable and partly torn. He knew he wouldn't be able to read this all tonight, but he could at least begin, maybe give his father a chance before he would continue on his way. Even before he began, he decided that whatever his father had to say, wouldn't change his mind.

" _My dearest boy,_

_I know nothing will change your mind. Not my words, not my thoughts, not my wishes. It is too late for all that. The Eye is complete and you have found your sister. I know you are angry, you have every right to be. I can't give you all the answers just yet, you will need to be patient._

_I prayed I was wrong, I prayed an easier path for you, but it seems that all my prayers were in vain. However, when I met the Argonian, he assured me you would have enough strength to see through it all. No…that's wrong. I didn't meet him…he found us. Found you. You are his salvation and he is yours. I know what still lies ahead of you. I won't lie to you. It will be difficult, extremely so. But this land is your home. It always was. Don't let go of it, don't let your anger blind you from all the good things in life._

_In your heart, you believe that this path of revenge and bitterness is yours to walk to its horrifying end and that may be so. But don't forget that now you have others around you. You are the Dragonborn. A curse, you think. Others see it as a blessing. A gift. No matter how much you hate it, don't waste it. Use it._

_Never go alone. Trust is the hardest thing to come by in this world. You will have to reach out and look for support. There are already people by your side who you can lean to._

_Your sister. Your housecarl – a friend, as you like to call her. I guess that's a start. There is someone waiting for you in Riften. Find him, unite the rest of our family. He doesn't admit it, but he misses us, misses you. Remember the time the when you two saw the Queen? Foolish little boys!_

_The man your sister loves, he can and will help you, if you allow him to. At the very end, he is the only one you can look for support._

_Talk to the Harbinger. He already offered his advice to you but you are proud and independent, so you didn't accept his help. Be merciful to yourself, heal together with your sister. Find answers with her. And finally, find your home, a place where your heart can finally rest and your tormented soul can find its peace."_


	27. Chapter 27

**27.**

_She was sure she was dreaming._

_But everything here felt so real. The wind brushing her cheek, the birds chirping and singing, the smell of autumn leaves falling to the ground. She walked amongst them, heard them swish at her feet. They clung to her hem like they wanted to go with her. Golden, yellow, red and orange leaves fell upon her. Around her. The trees whispered._

_She knew where she was. The scenery was so familiar, she almost smelled the flowers – lavender, deathbell, tundra cotton – that her mother grew in her garden. She smelled the smoke, as it rose from the chimney, it was embedded in their walls, in their bed sheets, rugs, and clothing._

_To her, it was the scent of home._

_The scent of safety and love. The scent of her mother's sweet embrace, the scent of her father's joyous, warm laughter. It even accompanied her when her brother grabbed her hand and they ran together to nearest clear stream and jumped in shrieking and screaming, splashing water onto each other, giggling and enjoying the summer._

_She knew she wasn't far from home and from those memories. She desperately wanted to see them again, her parents, her brothers, and their small little farm house. She wasn't walking, the brisk wind carried her along. Carried her closer, faster, not allowing her to stop and grab on to the memories that were now surrounding her, memories that eluded her for so long._

_A familiar sandy road, a huge rock, where she and J'Ziir used to climb upon, the clear, blue stream where father took them fishing every now and then. And the night sky filled with stars and auroras, all the constellations mother knew and showed them, all the stories she told them. The two huge moons looking down on her, whispering, encouraging...remember, remember..._

_Night came upon her, she was now moving slower and the stars vanished. A thick fog surrounded her. A huge, ominous creature was moving amongst it, but she wasn't afraid, for she knew what kind of beast it was. As it emerged, she almost spread her arms to welcome it, to embrace it. The same creature saved her life all those years ago._

_It looked at her with its glowing yellow eyes, it towered over her, its thick fur smelled like the forest, it was matted with pine needles, leaves and dirt and its sharp claws were curved, long and dangerous. But she knew it wouldn't hurt her. It didn't leave her but remained at her side, walking next to her, covered by the fog. She heard its heavy footsteps, heavy breathing._

_Silently they walked along, the Khajiit girl and her protector._

_And then – the Orc appeared._

_It was smiling, grinning like a madman, standing there, right in front of her. Mocking her with its existence. "You allowed me to live forever", it growled and its voice was low and sultry. She turned away but it didn't vanish. Wherever she turned, it appeared, over and over again. And with it, the fear returned. It was stronger now, more powerful. And she realized she would have to face this now. Face him._

_She looked around for her protector, but the creature of the forest had disappeared. "There are battles you have to win by yourself."_

_The fear paralyzed her and made the Orc stronger. With horror, she watched as it took one step closer and then another. And another. And another. Still that horrible, bloody smile on its face, it reached out its hand and grabbed her. Its hands were cold and icy, fingers bony and painful, eyes unfeeling and cruel. It was like a corpse, dead but still alive, cold but burning with vengeance and anger. And lust. It was about to do what it already did to her, but this time it would be worse. Much, much worse._

_She tried to get away from it, but the fog tied her in her place. She struggled, kicked it, punched it, but the Orc was like a stone wall. All she could hear was its maniac laughter that echoed all around her._

_Suddenly a warm summer wind embraced her. It whispered to her, chased the fear away and replaced it with courage and strength. Something hot and dangerous was boiling inside her. It spread through her body, traveled at the tip of her fingers and before she even knew what she did, it exploded from her. A wall of fire, hot, scorching, wiping everything in its path._

_The Orc was enveloped in the flames, she heard its screams. It was like an animal, writhing in pain, screaming out in agony, reaching out for her, to save it, help it, begging for mercy. Its eyes were bleeding red, the blood boiled in them, out of them, the skin melted of from its fingers as it tried to catch her._

_She didn't have any mercy for it._

_She watched it burn, wanted it to suffer, wanted it to go through the same torture, the same agony that it had once caused to her. When it realized she wouldn't help, it made one last, desperate attempt to get her. With its last strength, it stood up, a blazing, living torch, its clothes, and hair in fire, its skin scorched and almost burned to the crisp. She took only one step, just one step away from it. No more. She refused to run any further. But that was enough. It fell - first to its knees, its eyes still looking for her, now filled with nothing but emptiness. And then, in this silent place where there was only it and her, she watched him burn away, fade away, finally die completely._

_She felt like nothing in this fog could threaten her. Not anymore. Her worst enemy was dead. She breathed out. It was over. She had finally beaten it. The Orc had almost managed to kill her, almost drew her to her own death. Even beyond the grave, it had been able to control her. Make her suffer, fear and live in anguish._

_No more._

_As the Orc burned, the wind swept away its last remains. The fog cleared, the sun came out and she finally saw a small farmhouse, her mother's garden, the smoke that rose from the chimney, the old rickety yard swing by the pond._

_And there, sitting together, holding each other's hands, looking at her, smiling, waiting for her, were her parents. Her real parents. Her family._

_Her mother smiled at her and spread her arms and without a second thought, she rushed forward, ran across the garden and threw herself into her mother's arms. Tears gushed out her eyes. She couldn't help it. They were here, she was here. Finally, she found them._

_Her father embraced them both, she could hear his heartbeat – the steady thump, thump, thump, in his chest. The smoky scent of his clothes, the warm, fuzzy feeling of his fur. At that moment, she remembered them all and never wanted to let go._

_She didn't know how long they stood there like that, just holding each other. But she couldn't let go nor did she wanted to. Her mother took her face in her hands and wiped away her tears. She was smiling and her eyes sparkled like two precious gemstones._

_"_ _Finally, you are here, my child," she said and brushed her cheek. "We have been waiting for you."_

_"_ _Waiting," she repeated and looked at them both. "How...? You both died..."_

_As soon as she said those words, everything about that horrible day rushed into her mind. She stepped away from them – from the ghosts of her parents. She clearly remembered the men who came, how her brother had told her to stay quiet, to stay hidden in the wagon, how they had shot the horse with their bows and arrows and how the poor animal, stricken with pain, fear and panic, fled, first towards the road and then, as the men shot more arrows into its skin, towards the gushing, roaring river and the sudden cliff that dropped vertically down. Still dragging the wagon where she was hiding. Hiding and not being able to make a sound. Hiding and squeezing the stuffed rabbit in her tiny hands. Hiding and watching her parents die before her eyes. She had seen the horror in her brother's eyes, the only member of her family that was still alive by then._

_And then...nothing._

_The cold water, the battle for survival._

_Not wanting to believe. Not wanting to remember. Forgetting, first slowly and then completely. Going...going..._

_Gone._

_She turned back to look at her parents. They still stood there just watching her, letting her gather the pieces together. She looked at their house and now it wasn't the small cozy farm that she had spent her childhood in. Now it was a burning, smoldering pile of rock and lumber. Like her childhood, it was destroyed and erased. Swept away with the wind._

_"_ _Why did you bring me here?" she asked. "Why did you want me to see this?"_

_It pained her heart, to live it all through again. If this was all that she had, if these were the memories that she has chased for so long, she didn't want them. She wanted to forget all over again. Not see this, not feel so powerless, not being able to stop it and bring them all back._

_"_ _You need to help him," her father said and took her hands to his. "Your brother. He remembers all this. And he is consumed by his hatred, his thirst for revenge. He needs your help."_

_"_ _J'Ziir?" she said his name and as she turned around, he was standing there, behind her. Not as an adult, not as the overconfident, arrogant being that he was now, but as innocent and overprotective as she could remember him._

_"_ _Why didn't you stop it?" he screamed at his father. "You knew what would happen. To me! To Raji! To all of us! Why didn't you stop it?"_

_The louder he screamed, the older he became and soon enough she saw him as he was now. Tormented by all the things he had endured, living only with the black hatred in his heart. Hating the man that destroyed them but at the same time, hating his parents for letting it happen._

_"_ _You were a master wizard!" he shouted. "You could have saved us!"_

_"_ _I saved you and your sister," their father answered with a calm voice. "There was nothing else I could do."_

_"_ _Nothing?" J'Ziir stepped closer and for a moment it seemed that he was ready to strike down his own father. "You knew what happened to me. What I had to go through!"_

_"_ _And you survived because of the Eye," their father answered. "Like your sister did."_

_The Eye. Sura looked down and saw the pendant glowing in her neck. It was completed now, the two crescent moons formed a glowing, sparkling eye. It was because of the necklace that they were here, that they were able to see their parents at all. To be united as a family, even if it only was for a little moment._

_"_ _What's the Eye?" Sura asked her father._

_"_ _It's our lives," he answered. "What's left of them"._

_He held out his hand and called his wife's name. Namada. She stepped forward and took it. They stood there, together, watching them, begging for understanding, for forgiveness._

_"_ _Your life?" J'Ziir repeated. "What does that mean?"_

_"Z_ _irr knew what would happen," Namada said. "He knew that we wouldn't be able to be with you. But saving you...our most precious children...we had to find a way. And so...we gave up our own lives for you."_

_"_ _The night before," Jo'Azirr continued and squeezed her hand a little tighter. "We added the last ingredient to the amulet. The remaining years of our lives. The essence of our spirits. The remaining strength in us. My life in yours, J'Ziir. And Namada's in yours, Raji. My son," Jo'Azirr looked at J'Ziir. "When you went through the hunger, the torture, the sleepless nights, the pain and the suffering, I was there with you, every step along the way. It was my life that shortened, not yours. My strength, my pain. My blood they spilled."_

_"_ _Why?" J'Ziir snarled. "Why bring us here now? Nothing will change..."_

_"_ _I know, "Jo'Azirr nodded. "And I'm not trying to stop you or change your mind. How could I? You are so much stronger than I ever was."_

_"_ _Your sister was lost," Namada said. "She needs to remember. But like her, you have also lost your roots. You need to remember as well."_

_"_ _I remember," J'Ziir growled and turned away. "Too well. Now, let me go!"_

_"_ _We are not keeping you here," Jo'Azirr said. "Go if you wish."_

_Sura watched as her brother – once so kind, caring, humorous brother – walked away without a moment's hesitation. The fog swallowed him. She wanted to run after him and tell him not to go, not now when she had finally found him. When they were finally here together. Her father touched her shoulder and she turned to look at him._

_"_ _Stay by his side," Jo'Azirr said. "He needs you, but he doesn't want to admit it. He can't do any of this alone."_

_"_ _What can I do?" Sura asked. "I don't even know him anymore..."_

_"_ _Talk to him," Jo'Azirr smiled. "Remind him. Share your own memories, your adventures, the fun times you had with him and…"_

_"_ _I...I'll try," Sura nodded._

_"_ _One more thing," her father lowered his hands of her shoulders and stared deeply in her eyes. "Return to us."_

_"_ _What?" she shook her head. "I'm already here, father…"_

_"_ _When the time is right," her father continued. "You know what you need to do. And we'll be there to help you."_

_"_ _What are you talking about?" Sura frowned. "Pa..."_

_"_ _Make her return," Jo'Azirr said. "If she dies..."_

_"_ _Who? Who will die?" she was getting worried._

_"_ _You will know," her father assured her._

_"_ _I can't do anything if you are not telling me..."_

_"_ _Turn to those you know and love," Namada brushed her daughter's cheek. "Right now there is someone waiting for you. For you to open your eyes and look at him."_

_Gently her mother hugged her and then turned her towards the forest. There, at the very edge, she saw the same giant creature that had guided her here. No…it was similar, but not the same. It was younger, more powerful. She didn't feel fear towards it, only devotion. And then the creature changed. Slowly its human features came to view, its arms shortened, its fur and its tail disappeared. The feral look in its eyes vanished._

_Sura recognized the man standing in its place. He was looking at her, his grey eyes smiled and he reached out his hand, as to welcome her, to guide her back to their world._

_She turned to her parents. She knew she would have to figure the rest out by herself. And she was ready to do that. She hugged them both and swore she would never again forget them or what had happened. Then she ran to him, took his hand and continued towards life, towards the light, by his side._


	28. Chapter 28

**28.**

As soon as she opened her eyes, everything came back to her. And for the first time in years, everything was clear. Who she was, why she was here and where she needed to be. What she needed to do. She lay in the bed for a while, stared at the ceiling and as she looked to her left, she saw Lydia lying beside her. Her friend was still asleep but she was holding her hand, not wanting to let her go. Sura smiled and quietly pulled her own hand from hers. She didn't want to wake her, she wasn't ready to answer her questions yet.

She stood up and sat on the edge of the bed for a while. The radiant glow of the necklace had faded away but it was still pulsating, still alive against her skin. She touched it a wave of energy rushed through her.

_"My life in your half, J'Ziir. And Namada's in yours, Raji."_

Now she knew for certain that she would always carry her mother with her. And always had. The thought comforted her, it made her more determined and without a second thought, she knew that she would have to leave Whiterun.

At least for now.

Go back to Riften, say final goodbyes to her parents. Recover what was still left and then move on. Move on and help her brother. Will he accept me? she thought. Will he want my help? Or is he just going to turn away from me and continue on his own? No, she shook her head. I won't let him. I will not lose him. Not again. Not anymore.

She stood up and glanced out of the window. The sky was filled with clouds and she figured it was late afternoon. Someone had changed her clothes – Lydia no doubt. She was wearing a white nightgown, one of her own. She took a few steps towards the door but realized that there were probably lots of guards outside. This was the Jarl's bedroom, after all.

The guards didn't really bother her anymore. Her fear vanished and she felt like she could walk out into the world and keep herself safe. She looked at her hands and felt the power that had been sleeping within her for so long. The spells that Farengar had thought her throughout the years felt so measly and ineffective now. Something had happened to her in her dreams. Her memories had returned but she felt like her father has sent something else with her as well.

Some of his own powers. ( _Return to us!_ )

She glanced back at Lydia and decided to let her sleep. Without a second thought, she opened the door and walked out of the bedroom. Her sudden presence scared the guards. They didn't say anything but took a few careful steps back, away from her. Their emotionless helmets revealed nothing but she could sense their fear. She understood that. After all, she drank the poison that had no antidote. To them, she was a living corpse. A thrall that awakened without her own will. She didn't let their intense gazes bother her. She walked the wooden stairs down, opened the huge doors and slipped into the longhouse. The stone floor felt cold underneath her feet but she skittered across the floor silently and quickly. She continued on, down the stairs and peeked into the throne room.

The Jarl was having a heated conversation with his Dunmer bodyguard and with his steward. She could hear their voices but couldn't quite grasp what they were talking about. Every now and then she did hear the word "Dragonborn". They were talking about J'Ziir. She looked around to see if he was anywhere to be seen. She didn't really know how to react to his presence yet. It'd been so long since they last met. The thought made her stop in her tracks.  _Since they last met._  It had been nearly twenty years since they had actually seen each other. Talked to each other. All this time that J'Ziir spent in Skyrim, they were strangers. She didn't know what had happened to him during those years that they spent apart. Right now she just wanted to slip into her room, change her clothes and then think about her plan of action.

The Jarl, the Dunmer, and the steward were all so enthralled in their conversation that she was sure they wouldn't notice her. She lifted her hem, stuck to the shadows and quietly headed towards the court wizard's room. She was relieved to see that the room was empty. Quickly she opened the door to her own bedroom. She knew it wouldn't take long for Lydia to wake up, notice that she was gone and alert the whole reach. Before that, she needed to gather herself, her thoughts, and make sure she knew what she wanted to do.

She opened her wardrobe and pulled out one of the few dresses she had. She changed her clothes and as she closed the door she saw the abandoned, stuffed rabbit on her bed. Someone laid it there. She touched the rabbit and picked it up. Now she remembered squeezing it in her hand when she crawled out of the river. Squeezing it when she walked in the dark forest, wet, cold and alone. Shadows reaching out, ready to snatch her, take her and kill her. The rabbit had been her only tie to her old life, the only thing that kept her safe in the madness she was thrown into.

For years she had discarded it, stuffed it underneath her clothes, buried it inside her small chest. Now she pressed it against her heart. She wanted to take it with her and maybe – if she'd be able to find any sign of her parents – she would leave it there, in their old home. To tell them that she would never again forget them.

She rummaged through her chest and pulled out the small coin purse. She counted the coins, a little over 250 gold. Would she be able to buy a decent armor with that? Or at least some kind of armored west that could protect her on the way? Maybe I should talk to Eorlund about it, she decided. Unless he wants to stop me from leaving, then I have to make it myself. She knew the easiest way to get to Riften were the carriages that left from Whiterun stables every day. She didn't know how much it would cost but she hoped she had enough.

And then – the hardest part was still ahead.

Letting the Jarl know what she was planning.

She was not about to forget the kindness, the care, and love she had received in Whiterun during all these years. When she had forgotten her own father, another man stepped into his shoes and filled his place. Of course, he had his own children, but to her, he'd been more than just the Jarl of Whiterun. She knew the Jarl and after everything that happened, he would probably try to stop her from going. She cared for him but this was something that she had to do.

She nodded to herself. She knew her plans and how to make them happen. The first step, talk to Eorlund. The second step, talk to the Jarl. Third step...talk to J'Ziir.

For the first time since she woke up, she realized that she would have to speak with the Dragonborn. With her brother. What would that be like? She only remembered the cute little boy who sometimes teased her, pulled her tail and whiskers, but mostly showed her new, exciting things. When they ran to the nearest river, the morning sun was only rising, how the wild salmon migrated up the stream, how their scales shone silverily and how they sparkled in the first light of dawn. How he smiled at her when he saw her face light up. How he grabbed her hand, pulled her along, helped her to climb on the big rocks and tall trees and how they sat together on a small hill watching as the sun painted their little home valley.

How could that little boy be the same angry, hot-tempered Dragonborn? And what would you say to him? Sura asked herself. She couldn't think of anything, not a single thing. Just saying "hello" and "how have you been" sounded too plain and too inadequate.

_You can think about that later_ , she said to herself and stood up from her bed. Now there were many more things she had to do. She placed the stuffed rabbit back on the bed and gently caressed its head and the first time in days, a genuine, gentle smile rose on to her face. She didn't realize it but it was the same smile, the same expression that had stolen Vilkas' heart many, many years ago. And like so many others in Whiterun, he also believed he would never see that open, beautiful smile again.

To Eorlund, she decided, stepped out of her room and walked calmly to the longhouse. When she appeared from the Court Wizard's room, all the talk, all noise, all the movement seized. For a minute or two, the Jarl simply stared at her, not believing his eyes, not wanting to believe. When he finally stood up from his chair he took a few hesitating steps, said her name and then as she smiled to him, he strolled forward, grabbed her in his arms and held her for a long, long time. His heart surged with joy. He knew this reaction was a little over exaggerated, but seeing her standing there was like snatching a dear, beloved child from the certain death.

"Wha...how?" the Jarl muttered, pushed her away to look at her, to really make sure it was her and then he laughed. A warm, baritone laughter that shook his whole body. She couldn't help but laugh with him.

"I'm alright now," she reassured him. "I'm alright."

"How can you be?" the Jarl refused to let go of her. "After what happened? You should rest some more, you need to rest..."

"There are things I need to do," she pulled away and looked at him.

Jarl Balgruuf watched her. Watched her closely. Something changed in her. Like a newfound confidence, a new certainty of something. Like she knew now where she belonged and what she wanted and needed to do. The realization made him happy but also kind of sad. It meant that at some level, he would lose her. This strange step-daughter of his. This child who he tried to keep safe. But in his heart hadn't he always known that this day would come. When he would have to let go, let her search the past she so wanted to find. A huge part of her past had already revealed itself. And something that no one had expected turned out to be real. To think that this child, this little orphan, who he raised in Whiterun for over twenty years, suddenly had a family. Or at least a brother. A brother, who was nothing like her.

And as he contemplated what it would mean for them to finally meet and talk to each other, the Dragonborn entered the reach. Everyone turned to look at him, but he only saw one person. The two images in his head combined into one. The little sister he always cherished and remembered had grown into this beautiful, sparkling woman. That image now completed itself. ( _I'm not the one you are looking for! Lies! Lies!)_ He stood motionless like a statue, staring, trying to believe and still not actually believing. For a moment he wanted to turn and run. To leave. Not face this. Not acknowledge this. Not accept it. Time had done its damage. The torture had done its damage. Finding her wouldn't change a thing. He was almost disappointed to realize this.

Sura looked at him. She had seen him many times but now she looked at him differently. She examined her feelings towards him. Was there love? Longing? Pity? Anger or hate? No, she understood. Not hate or anger. She couldn't feel longing because this man wasn't the brother she remembered. He was nothing like him. And still, she knew it was him. Was sure it was him. She felt pity because he saw his own bitterness and allowed it to control him. But she also felt tenderness. She wanted to walk up to him and wrap her arms around him, like their mother had many, many years ago. And tell him that everything would be alright. They had found each other and everything would be alright.

"I'm sure you two have much to talk about," the Jarl finally broke the silence. "Go on, the upper porch is empty. There you can be in peace."


	29. Chapter 29

**29.**

The porch was quiet. There was no one else up here. Only the wind whispered its secrets and chased the clouds in the metal grey sky. They stood apart, silent. Watching over the plains. Neither of them knew what to say, how to start. Every word felt meager and meaningless. And they couldn't touch each other, they were family but in the current situation, they were way too far apart.

They were strangers.

Sura finally turned to look at him. He didn't answer her gaze. The look on his face was stern, serious and grave. He smiles so rarely, she thought. Would he look more familiar if he smiled at me?

She looked at his armor, his weapons, his strong arms, and muscular body. He had changed from the day when he first appeared in Whiterun. Back then he had worn ragged leather armor, torn out shoes and a dull dagger. Now he wore a shiny steel armor that was partly covered in animal fur. She recognized wolf pelts and snow leopard skin. She didn't need to guess where he had got all of them. Her brother was a warrior. A hunter.

The armor had strange carvings that weren't familiar to her and his weapons - the two sharp and shiny axes and the curved bow - were made of the same material and had the same curious markings. She could have asked him about them but opening this conversation with such a meaningless topic seemed impossible. In fact, everything that she wanted to say seemed impossible.

So they stood there, silent but at the same time desperate to say something. Finally, Sura understood what she could do. The Eye was still on her neck and now she knew what to do with it. She closed the jewel in her fist, closed her eyes and like a whisper with the wind, came the words of the spell that she needed to recite. It only took a few moments and soon enough she felt how the jewel broke in two separate pieces. As she opened her hand, she saw the identical crescent moons. She reached around her neck, opened the lock and handed the other part to J'Ziir.

"This is yours," she said.

He took it. Again, silence fell between them. He looked at the necklace, thinking how long he had carried it with him. He hadn't known its meaning, it had only been a memory to him. Something that only he could understand. A mark of the anger that only he had the right possess. But now, here was his dead sister, who seemed to remember as much as he did, but in her face, he saw nothing of the same anger, of the same passionate will to revenge.

"You saved me," Sura continued. "Like you saved me back then."

"I didn't save you," J'Ziir replied.

"You did," Sura smiled. "Because without you the Eye wouldn't be here now. And if you hadn't told me to hide in the wagon, I would have died...back then… with ma and pa..."

"I didn't die," J'Ziir whispered. "I wish I had..."

"What happened to you?" she finally asked and moved a little closer.

"You don't want to know," he said grimly.

She giggled. "I remember you saying that to me. When we were little and I asked you something and you didn't know the answer. It was always " _you don't want to know!_ "

"This time it's true, Raji," he didn't smile. "You don't want to know."

_"Raji"._ How odd that sounded. How strange and at the same time so familiar, so dear. When he said the name, she could almost hear tenderness in his voice. Like a shadow of his old self, hiding somewhere beneath the hard and impenetrable surface.

"Or is it Sura now?" he mumbled.

"Just call me Raji," Sura smiled. "It makes me happy. Happy to remember that name. To remember who I used to be. Who we used to be. You were there with me, weren't you?"

"I didn't want to be," he shook his head. "I remember everything I need to."

"Where you a slave?" she dared to ask. He didn't need to say anything, she saw the answer in his face. "For how long?"

"Long enough," he replied.

"That doesn't really tell me much," Sura sighed.

"Seventeen years, two months, three weeks and five days, to be exact," he elaborated, looked at her with his piercing eyes and smiled sarcastically. "Does that tell you more?"

"What did they do to you?" she ignored his question and looked at him with sorrow in her eyes.

He hated to see it, the pity, the comfort, the understanding as if she could really understand anything. For a short, fleeting moment, he hated her. For living. For ruining his plans. For coming back into his life now, as a ghost, as a memory, as a reminder that he wasn't the kind of man his parents had always wanted him to be. For having lived such a secured and safe life within these sturdy walls. But as soon as the hate came, he also remembered what had happened to her. And the guilt quickly followed. To control his feelings, to escape from them, he turned away from her.

"You name it," he growled. "Poisoning, torture, fighting... whatever they wanted. We were their property, not living creatures. We weren't meant to feel pain, hunger, thirst. They saved the strongest of us, tested us, and made us fight each other."

Yes indeed, he thought. He had suppressed these memories, hoping he would never have to dig through them again. He had only scratched the surface because he didn't have to words to describe the worst of it to her.

How they kept them in chains for days under the hot and scorching sun, how the chains gnawed his skin, his ankles, his wrists, his neck into a bloody, painful and festering wounds filled with maggots and other parasites. How he was only a shadow of himself, at times too weak to move or even to talk or to sleep. And after a horrific day in the sun, the night came and they were left to fend for themselves against hungry predators and the biting cold of the dark.

How the master wizards tested their spells and poisons on them. How they could do nothing but try to scream, try to fight the enemies that weren't really there, to die a thousand times but still be alive, how the pain was so immense that they couldn't get a single sound out of their tortured bodies. How they could only twist and turn and hope that the suffering would end, hope for death, anything to make it stop.

He learned not to make friends, not to trust anyone, because day after day he was forced to kill others just to survive to the next day when the same thing happened again. There were times when he was so tired, so exhausted, that he had seen his opponent in two when he had barely been able to stay on his feet let alone defend himself. But somehow he always survived. He suffered massive wounds and deep gashes and often he was more than ready to die. The dark spots of death had danced in his eyes as he fell forward, tasted the dusty earth and felt the dirt underneath him soak his blood. Then he was ready, more than ready, to follow his parents. Hoping they would come to him. Hoping he would see them through the red haze that covered his eyes, when he could hear his heart beating, beating so slow, so tired, so ready to give it all up.

But death never came. It avoided him. And as he now looked at the other half of the Eye, he slowly began to understand why and how he survived.

"They?" Sura's voice broke into his thoughts.

"The elves," he mumbled.

"Were you in Skyrim all this time?" she wanted to know.

"I was at first," he reached deeper into his own pit of hell. "Before..."

"You escaped?"

"Yes," he replied. So many things contained in that one, small word. He didn't know how to explain. "I met an Argonian woman. In the Black Marsh. She taught me things. How to be quiet, how to kill quietly. How to use the shadows to my advantage. I spent years with her, learning to live like a person. Then she died and I...returned."

Those few memories of her brought her name to his lips. "Beelei," he whispered softly. How much had she taught him? How patient had she been? When he couldn't even eat without looking at her with a silent question in his eyes, asking for a permission to touch to food. When he wanted to live as a person but didn't know how.

And when she reached out for him in the middle of the night, when he felt his body answer to her soft touch but didn't know what to do. With her, he learned to be kind. Gentle. Loving. He learned where he needed to touch and how to touch. After she died, he forgot those things. He realized that there was no room for kindness in his life.

She saw it long before her untimely death. His hate. Repressed, but boiling beneath the surface. A great potential. With that in mind, she trained him. To be more precise. More accurate. To never miss or to underestimate his enemies. To count their weaknesses. And to use them to his advantage. Alongside her, he turned into an assassin. Without him knowing, she passed him her lifelong knowledge of poisons, archery, silent weapons and the art of stealth. And he mastered them all.

Sura sensed that there was so much more hidden behind his simple words, behind that one name, so many things that he couldn't or didn't want to tell. In a way, she could now understand him but she couldn't realize why he hated the Nords so much. After all, it was the elves that had kept him as their slave.

"Why hate the Nords?" she finally asked.

"Why?" he turned to look at her. "Who killed our parents?"

"Because of him you judge them all?" she asked and stepped closer. "Are you are going after him? What would that accomplish?"

"Revenge," he replied. "You might have forgotten, but I haven't. And I never will."

"I don't want to forget either," Sura touched his hand gently. "But let me help. We can do this together. The Dragons..."

"No!" he refused. "I don't want you to get involved."

"I'm already involved, whether you want it or not," she said sternly. "Skyrim needs you now, no one else can kill the dragons."

"Are you really asking me to ignore what happened?" he frowned. "Asking me to ignore that I lost everything, you, ma and pa...our home..!"

"But I'm here now!" she was now standing right in front of him. "Here and alive. You haven't lost everything. We have each other! And I'm not asking you to ignore. But there are other ways..."

"As long as he is alive, I have nothing," J'Ziir said but didn't pull away. "You need to let me go."

"I will if you let me follow," Sura said. "I just found you again. You go after him, you take me with you."

"Raji," he whispered, lifted his hand and caressed her cheek.  _Don't make this so hard on me._  "Don't you realize that seeing you here now is like a dream. Something I never expected. You are the only good thing left. It doesn't matter what happens to me now. You are here."

"Don't talk like that," she shook her head and without a moment's hesitation, she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. His body stiffened and she was sure he would push her away. Couple minutes later she felt his arms, his strong, protective arms close around her.

"He is already wanted by the Imperials, can't you let them handle him?" Sura whispered.

Why couldn't he? Why couldn't he let them handle him? This addiction... he knew he couldn't be at peace before he would end the man himself. This path was his to walk, to its bitter end. He knew that there would a price to pay for choosing this. For not letting it go.

" _So I will pay the price, whatever it may be when the time comes_."

For the moment though, he was happy to hold his sister in his arms.


	30. Chapter 30

**30.**

As he left the Dragonsreach his mind was filled with thoughts. He couldn't even grasp most of them so he allowed them to buzz inside his head like a swarm of angry bees. His sister was back. And his parents...they still lived at some level of his consciousness. His family wasn't as dead as he led himself to believe. He was falling way too deep, too deep into this madness that he called his life. And as if that wasn't enough, now his sister wanted...what exactly? For him to give up? Or to join him, be by his side till the end? He knew would allow neither of those things. He wouldn't allow her to endanger herself. Nor would he allow her to persuade him to be the big hero of this land.

She wanted him to save Skyrim. From the dragons. On the other hand, he understood Raji's worries. The dragons were attacking all over the land, destroying cities and villages, burning down houses and slaughtering helpless people. But he was never the kind of "hero" who was moved by a couple of dead Nords. And calling the people of Skyrim "helpless" was a grave understatement. These people were capable of defending themselves. They didn't need him. They actually shunned him, insulted him every time he walked past. What rights they had to demand him for anything?

He continued on and as other thoughts came to him, thoughts that dared to threaten his line of reasoning he frowned and pushed them aside. Locked them behind an unbreakable door and tossed the key away. He only needed to concentrate on one goal, everything else was meaningless. Since when had his clear and straight path turned so complicated? I should have left Whiterun before this Dragonborn mess crashed down to his head. Staying and playing around with Mila. That girl was the main reason for his downfall. Why can't I just leave Whiterun, head to Windhelm, fulfill my quest and be done with it? Why am I delaying? What am I waiting for?

As he came to the Wind District and passed the giant tree in the middle of it, his father's voice whispered in his mind.

_"Talk to the Harbinger."_

He stopped on his tracks and shook his head. He wanted to be rid of that voice, he didn't want to hear anything it had to say. There was a time when he eagerly listened to it, when his young and trusting eyes looked upon his father, with admiration and love. When he yearned to hear his stories ( _his lies!_ ). He closed his eyes and kept repeating his mission like a mantra - " _his death is the only thing that matters to me"._

Moments later as he opened his eyes, the voice was gone but he faced Jorvaskarr. What could the old man know? Something about Raji? It was the curious part of his brain again, the part which wasn't satisfied with the mantra he kept repeating to himself. Kodlak Whitemane already invited him inside once. That time he refused to follow him. This time he wasn't invited. But he preferred to do things in his own way.

He walked up the stone stairs and opened the doors. The giant fire burned and crackled but the long wooden table was empty. The smoke rose upwards and the floorboards creaked under his feet as he walked forward. No one asked him what he was doing here, no one tried to stop him. The wooden stairs led down and as he descended, he felt a strong grip around his heart. It was getting harder to breathe. It was like every step brought him closer to something he avoided most of his life. Getting involved. Getting attached. Why do I want to know more? he asked himself. The less you know, the easier it will be. To separate yourself, to not care. To be indifferent. But while his mind ordered him to turn back, demanded him to obey, his feet kept going forward and before he knew it, he was downstairs, at the other end of the long hallway.

The place felt abandoned. Quiet. Too quiet. He was naturally suspicious of places he had never been before. His survival always demanded caution from him. And this time was no different. While he strongly believed that no one would attack him here, in the noble halls of the Companions, his over careful nature was embedded into him like a second skin. So he acted accordingly. His steps became silent, his frame became a shadow, and his whole existence disappeared into the dark corners of the hallway.

The last door at the other end was ajar and a dim, flickering light invited him closer. As he peeked inside he saw an old man sitting by the table. He seemed focused, deep in his thoughts, he was bending down and a quill in his hands moved quickly as he kept writing. J'Ziir scanned the rest of the room and saw no one else. He was about to turn back and leave, there was nothing he cared to hear, nothing he wanted to know. Instead of opening the door more, he quickly decided to close it permanently. This wanting would only lead to misery.

"So you finally came," the old man suddenly looked up from his work and stared right at him. "I was expecting you."

J'Ziir stood up. This was the first time ever since he had been caught. Usually, it was him who saw others, not the other way around. Strange feelings of shame and doubt caught him off guard. He was not used to being exposed and it angered him.

"Say what you want, old man," he opened the door and stepped inside. "You think you are hiding something from me? Something I want to know. So desperately that I sought you out."

"Well, isn't that the case?" Kodlak Whitemane asked calmly. He glanced briefly at his journal, the dream he was writing down. If it held any truth, this man in front of him would play a major part in the days to come. In all their lives. He also began to realize his own actions, what happened all those years ago. What he once did still had consequences to this day. How important saving that child had been.

"I've heard enough riddles lately," J'Ziir muttered. "Tell me what I want to know."

"And what is that exactly?" Kodlak inquired. "Why don't you sit down?"

"I didn't come here to bond with you," the Khajiit crossed his arms. "And like I've said many times before, I have no interest joining you or your Companions."

"That remains to be seen," Kodlak smiled. His one good eye sparkled with contained laughter. "Let's hear your questions. I'll do my best to answer them."

"You have some knowledge, apparently," J'Ziir slowly moved around the room. "You say you know things. Now you will share your knowledge with me."

He wondered would his threatening demeanor work. At the same time, he was thinking about how to squeeze the information from the old man without revealing too much. That he did care. That he desperately wanted to know. That he wasn't the ice cold, man made of stone that he pretended to be.

"This is hardly a place where you should be threatening me," Kodlak said calmly, stood up and smiled. "But I understand. You have been put in a difficult position. On the other hand, you hold your mission. Loneliness. Solitude. Ignorance. Indifference. And in the other hand, you have something you long though you lost. A friend. A sister. A family. Things that you are not used to having."

J'Ziir stopped to his tracks. He watched the old man, trying to figure him out. He hadn't come here to hear a lecture about his morals and his current situation. He didn't need it. And all those people who ever tried to dive into his mind, read his thoughts, were long gone. Dead and buried. He made sure of that. All he wanted to know was the past. How Raji and this old man were connected. But for some reason, his words struck somewhere deep inside him. Because what he said was the truth. He thought he had already chosen, made his decision, which was set in stone like it had been all his adult life. But in the past couple of months, his stone had slowly begun to crumble. The steady cliff of anger and hatred that he had been standing on, was falling apart.

"You don't need to ask again, I will tell you," Kodlak said. "But it's a long story. Are you sure you have enough patience?"

"Try me," J'Ziir said.

Kodlak Whitemane nodded, walked to the door and closed it. Then he poured himself some wine, sat down and began to talk.

Hours later, when all the candles had burned up, when the wine bottle was empty when the city of Whiterun had grown quiet, Kodlak Whitemane ended his story. The story that contained all the missing pieces, and more. While telling him how he found and rescued Raji, the Harbinger revealed much more, about himself and about the people that lived in Jorrvaskr. J'Ziir now understood why there seemed to be so much more in this man that could reach the eye. A massive lurking shadow behind him that you could almost see, almost hear and sense. Something that you were almost able to grab and not quite understand. Sometimes it nearly revealed itself in the flickering light of the candles, it showed itself in the corner of your eye, where you could barely see its figure but as soon as you turned your gaze to look for it, there was nothing.

Because the beast was hiding. In all of them. In the Harbinger. In the wolf brothers. In the huntress and in the bald, one-eyed hunter. They were the honorable Companions, but they were also cursed, wretched creatures that were doomed to lurk in the shadows and hunt in the darkness. The night was their kingdom, and the moons were their protective queens.

His sister was rescued by a werewolf. This old man saw her. Little girl, lost and confused, and even though his first instinct was to attack, to mangle, to tear apart and to devour, some part of his human brain stepped in stopped his actions. Instead, he had protected her, guided her, kept her safe in the never-ending night and she trusted him, followed him, and held him as the only clear light in her traumatized mind that was shattered to pieces.

And now his sister loved a werewolf. Not the old man, but one of the wolf brothers. And she would probably still love him even if she found out the truth.

"Yes," Kodlak nodded as if reading his thoughts. "She will still love him. And he will always love her. Even you can't change that. Because love isn't something you can reason with. It isn't logical. You will find that out very soon."

J'Ziir frowned. Love didn't belong in his life. And it was the last thing he wanted to hear about. He stood up. He was sure the old man had nothing more to tell him. He didn't know anything else. But piece by piece he was able to gather the story, the unbelievable truth of his sister's survival.

"You are free to go," Kodlak said behind him.

"What?" J'Ziir looked at him sarcastically. "Are you not going to ask me to pay you for this great favor? For rescuing her?"

"My dear boy," Kodlak looked at him and he saw pity in his eyes. "The price you will have to pay for walking down your path will be hard enough for you. And your future actions are worth more than any gold I could ask from you."

Suddenly the old man looked very tired. He stood up, opened his bedroom door, looked at him one more time and then, closed the doors behind him. J'Ziir wanted to say something, to contradict his words, to protest and claim that his future wasn't written yet. It wasn't something that the old man or anyone else could see. He alone would know what would happen, he alone would decide for his actions.

But as he left Jorrvaskr, he could feel the stone crumble a little more. Tiny pebbles were falling down. You have to stop this, he told himself. Stop digging in the past. Stop making yourself so weak. Stop remembering what it means to be alive. What it means to care. You were dead before, you can be dead again.

With that in mind, he passed the big tree. At this moment he felt like his rock was gathering itself; it was getting stronger and steadier. He glanced up at the evening sky, the stars were out, and the two moons were looking down on him. The city grew quiet, the night was coming. He understood that it was time to leave his shelter, to make a decision before it was too late. The past had interfered, tried to ruin his plans, tried to make him waver. No more, his mind was now made. He would leave Whiterun and head to Windhelm. He would do what must be done and then, if he was still alive, he would worry about the consequences. Maybe then he would be ready to face the past and look into the future. As he walked down the stairs beside the Drunken Huntsman, he was calm and cold and collected. His mind was working, making preparations, thinking about the best and quickest way. No, I can't be quick, he decided. I want him to suffer. To hear who it was that ended his life.

The perfect plan was coming together, only a few pieces were missing and his brain was working hard to find the answers.

And then, just as easily, even more so - everything fell apart.

His sturdy stone cliff ( _you allowed her to crawl under your skin!_ ) suddenly shattered to pieces, it was like an earthquake inside his head. It shook him right down to his core. His feet refused to go on and he stopped as he had walked straight into an invisible wall. He was standing next to the Drunken Huntsman, opposite his own house and watched as Lydia, his housecarl ( _housecarl! housecarl! Lydia...something more...a friend…you allowed her to crawl under your skin!_ ) embraced another man. And not just any man. Her fiancé. The man she was supposed to marry. The man who would own her. Have her. Keep her. Kiss her and touch her. The man he had forgotten and brushed out his mind. It doesn't mean anything! He scrambled his thoughts together and tried to find the pieces of his carefully crafted plans. But for the first time in years, he felt powerless, useless. Invisible. She was his friend…his friend…(s _omething more…lust had nothing to do with feelings…_   _people who hated each other still lusted after one another like two dogs in heat!_ )

_"Love isn't something you can reason with."_ The old man's voice came to him. " _You allowed her to crawl under your skin!"_ What does he know? Nothing. He closed his eyes and forced the feelings away. His body relaxed, the urge to rush forward disappeared. As he opened his eyes a few minutes later, the embracing couple was gone. He didn't want to think where they were and what they were doing. He took a deep breath, turned towards the city gates and walked ahead.

You made your choice.

There is no turning back.


	31. Chapter 31

**31.**

To Lydia, it was a confusing day.

She woke up alone, in the Jarl's bedroom. When she realized that there was no one else besides her, she momentarily believed that Sura had died. She jumped out of the bed, her hair was a mess and her clothes were wrinkled and dirty, but all she cared about was her friend. She burst through the doors like a whirlwind. The guards that were patrolling the hallways and standing on their posts near the doors got their second shock of the day. Dragonsreach was longer a peaceful, calm, almost sleepy place to live. Not after the Dragonborn came.

She ran through the upstairs rooms and checked every bedroom. Maybe they moved her to some other room, she though in her frantic state. But after a fruitless search, she hurried down the wooden stairs and emerged to the longhouse. She was forced to stop on the upper floor. There was a group of people standing in silence. All the guards from the porch, the steward, the bodyguard, her father and even the Jarl himself. Everyone was quiet. She didn't understand what was going on so she snuck up next to her father and whispered to him.

"It's the Dragonborn," Hrongar whispered back, like that explained everything.

"Where is he?" Lydia asked.

"At the porch," Hrongar nodded forward. "With his sister."

"What?" Lydia exclaimed. "With...who?"

"With Sura," the Jarl turned to her. "They have finally found each other. It's best if we let them talk."

"She's alive?" Lydia smiled. "Is that really true?"

"It was the Eye," Jarl Balgruuf explained. "The Arch-Mage was right. It did restore her will to live. And I believe it did more than that."

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked.

"It changed her," Jarl Balgruuf looked into the distance. "She is now...confident. Like she knows who she is and where she belongs. They are very much alike, I believe. She and the Dragonborn."

"Really?" Lydia was astonished. She had a hard time believing that her dear friend, the quiet and the gentle Khajiit girl, the same girl that she had known all her life, would suddenly change so drastically. And it would be even worse if she became like the Dragonborn. Filled with coldness, indifference, and ignorance. No, that couldn't be true.

"Both are strong," the Jarl continued. "But in different ways. And I have every reason to believe that after what she has gone through, she will be even stronger. Maybe more so than him."

Lydia thought about his words and realized that he might be right. Sura always possessed something special, but it had remained just beneath the surface. And because she was so hard to read, it was even more difficult to try reaching her inner thoughts. Lydia understood that maybe her worry and fear were not necessary anymore. But it was hard to leave them behind; after all, Sura was always like her little sister. The one she cared for. The one she defended. The one she kept safe. But now...maybe she was strong enough to carry herself. And carry others with her.

Hrongar looked at his daughter. He shook his head and made up his mind. This kind of life was not what his only child deserved. He always looked after his own wife, loved and cared for her until her untimely death, he wanted someone to look after and care for his daughter too. Seeing Lydia like this, so wrapped up with the Dragonborn and his messy life. Lydia looked so tired. So exhausted. Her hair was oily and dirty and her clothes were old and wrinkly. She looked so much older, like a bag of discarded rags. Hrongar knew only too well that the Dragonborn didn't care for his daughter. It was time to put an end to this.

"Go, child," he told his daughter. "Go and change your clothes. There is someone you need to meet."

"What?" Lydia glanced at his father. "Who?"

"Someone," Hrongar didn't specify. "He'll be here soon, just...clean yourself up."

Lydia didn't really listen to her father because her head was filled with thoughts and emotions. She wanted to talk to Sura, to see the changes that the Jarl had seen. To make sure that underneath all that was still her dear friend, her sister, the one she grew up with. But most of all, she wanted to know what happened between those two. Was J'Ziir able to accept his sister? And was she able to change him in any way?

A few hours later, after a bath, a meal and a change of clothes, she finally met her friend at the Reach. And she was more than happy to notice that the old Sura was still there, but like the Jarl said, she was much tougher and more confident. It was like both her personalities - the timid, young girl without memories and the newly discovered Zahraji - were merged together, to form a stronger, more resilient woman. And Lydia knew that their paths led to different directions. Because now Sura was searching for her past.

"I remember everything," she told Lydia calmly. "There are things I need to do."

"I know," Lydia nodded. "Just tell me if you want my help."

"I do need your help," Sura said, grabbed her hand and the look on her face was serious. "Stay by his side."

"Are you talking about...the Dragonborn?" Lydia raised her eyebrows.

"Yes, my brother," Sura said and smiled. "My brother. Can you believe it?"

"Hardly," Lydia laughed. "You are nothing like him. How can you two be related?"

"We are," Sura said calmly. "Believe it or not. It seems I can't help him with this…thing he needs to do. But you can."

"I am his housecarl. It's my duty to stay by his side, no matter what."

"I think he freed you from that position," Sura gently reminded her. "So, it's not your duty anymore. Yet you still remain."

Silence fell between them. At first, Lydia didn't know what to say. For months she had stayed by his side, as a warrior, as a companion. And often she felt like she was a nuisance to him, a burden. Something he wanted to be rid off. But...then there were times when he was almost kind. Almost caring. The times when she realized he was staring at her when he thought she didn't notice. When he gave her advice, how to be better with her bow, how to swing the sword so that it staggered her opponent giving her time to decide where her next hit, "the killing blow" as he called it, should be aimed. When he stood behind her, steady as a rock, correcting her aim, telling her to aim with her hands as well as with her eyes. When she felt his breathing, soft and warm, besides her cheek and almost wanted to lean backward, to lean towards him and wished that his arms were around her. Sometimes when they were alone, camping, when she had almost fallen asleep to the sound of the crackling fire, she sensed his eyes upon her. Once she opened her eyes, just a little, to see was he really watching.

_He was._

His eyes...always so indifferent, always so cold and emotionless, were at that moment filled with feelings, with guilt, lust, longing, feelings, that made her shiver, made her want to get up, walk up to him and embrace him. To tell him that it was okay, that she was there for him. And she would always be there. She would always be…his " _friend_ ". Maybe something more, if that's what he wanted.

"I'll stay regardless," she heard herself saying. "I'll stay by his side."

Sura watched her and smiled. "You know it, don't you?"

"What?" Lydia swallowed.

"You know it," Sura repeated. "Thank you. He needs it. For someone to..."

"Hold on," Lydia interrupted her. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Sura nodded but said nothing. She seemed awfully content and Lydia wondered what she accidentally revealed. They changed the subject and went on talking for hours. Sura told her about her memories, her childhood, her parents and about her home. Through her, Lydia felt like she gained some new foothold with her capricious Thane. It was like piecing him together, little by little. There were still lots of pieces missing, but she was eager to see the whole image.

"I am leaving Whiterun," Sura finally managed to murmur.

"I know," Lydia said. "You don't have to explain."

"But I will come back," Sura promised. "When I can."

"And what about...?" Lydia asked. "Vilkas? Will you tell him?"

"I honestly don't know," Sura answered. "What would I say?"

"The truth," Lydia said. "I think you have been hiding long enough."

"You think I should?" Sura frowned. "Do you think he might care for me? After everything that's happened."

"He will," Lydia nodded. "Just don't leave him without a saying a word. You will regret it for the rest of your days."

"I think you are right," Sura admitted. "I almost died. I shouldn't waste any more time. After all, you never know what might happen..."

This was one of the changes Lydia could see clearly. When they talked about Vilkas before, Sura was always blushing, coy and shy. Almost intimidated by the idea that she might attract such a man, that she might deserve his love. She avoided speaking about him, and just mentioning his name made her squirm. Now she was different. Braver. Willing to seek out what she wanted and take it if she could. That was the kind of courage Lydia had never experienced. It was different to lay your life on the line in the heated battle, after all - bruises and scratches and wounds healed fast with spells and potions. Unless you died, but even then you wouldn't feel any pain. But if you wounded your heart, there was no spell or potion to ease the agony.

It was late afternoon when they finally separated. Sura promised that they would surely meet again before she left. She had many things to prepare before she was able to go. Buried deep in her thoughts, Lydia walked through the Market and towards Breezehome. She hadn't met her Thane in hours and she wouldn't know what to say to him if she saw him now. But she assumed that he wanted to be alone. Sort out his feelings. Understand the situation. And be able to live with it. Somehow…

It was best not to look for him.

She was just about to enter Breezehome when she heard a familiar voice call her name. She turned and was shocked and surprised to see her father and Hadvar standing together, apparently waiting for her. Suddenly she remembered her father's words. Someone wanted to see her. Was it Hadvar that he had been talking about?

Clumsily they hugged each other and the smile of Hadvar's face was far from natural. He seemed awkward and just being close to her made him shift his feet and clear his throat. Hrongar, however, looked more than pleased. He explained that Hadvar came from Solitude. Legate Rikke had personally requested him to lead a squad of soldiers towards the eastern borders of the land and to assess the situation. Lydia nodded and pretended as she cared. Honestly, she wasn't interested. Her pending marriage had always seemed too distant and it was such a long time since she even thought about Hadvar. They were old childhood friends. To her, that was all they were. Now more than ever the idea of having him as her husband felt absurd and strange. Like she was marrying her older brother. The idea of spending her nights next to him in the same bed, doing the things that were meant for lovers, made her feel awkward. It didn't feel natural. It didn't feel possible.

"We need to talk," Lydia finally said. Hrongar frowned but Hadvar nodded.

"Yes, we do," he agreed.

"Come inside," Lydia invited him in. "Father, do you mind...?"

"No, no," Hrongar shook his head. "You two talk. It's best that you finally settle things for good. Then you can stop this nonsense and get on with your life."

As she closed the door, an embarrassing silence fell between them. And she got the first taste of what it would be like to be his wife. He wasn't a bad man and she was sure that he would make a perfect husband...for someone else. Just not for her.

"So, this is the Dragonborn's house," Hadvar looked around.

"Yes," Lydia answered. "Have a seat."

"It's alright," he smiled. "I don't think I'll be staying that long. I have to head towards Solitude soon. Legate Rikke will want my report in the first light of dawn. I only came since your father insisted..."

"Are they promoting you?" Lydia asked. Suddenly she wasn't brave enough to say it to his face. That she wouldn't be marrying him. That there may be  _someone_  else...

"I'm not sure," Hadvar said. "I think the Stormcloacks are finally making a move and they want to be prepared. Maybe they'll send me in the front lines."

"Hadvar," Lydia began.

"Don't worry about it," Hadvar interrupted him. "I know what you want to say. I've known it myself for a long time. You are a good daughter, Lydia. You want to do what's right by your father. But we both know where we stand."

"We do?" Lydia blinked. This wasn't going like she assumed. She had been prepared to be headstrong and decisive but at the same time, to let him down gently. "I mean...of course we do..."

"You were always like a sister to me," Hadvar said. "I can't see you as my wife."

" _You stole my lines!_ " Lydia thought but eventually, she smiled. What a relief. For so long she had been afraid of this moment, to meet him and hear what he wanted to say. Maybe that he wanted to marry her immediately. If he demanded that, could she reject him? _Absolutely_ , her heart whispered.

"So, tell me," Hadvar relaxed and now his smile was much more natural. "What is he like? The only time I met him, he was quiet and...strange."

"You two escaped Helgen together?" Lydia inquired.

"He saved my life," Hadvar admitted. "Without him, I wouldn't have gotten out alive. He quite remarkable, you know. Didn't say a word, but he used his swords like he was born with them. Has he learned to talk?"

"Oh, he can talk," Lydia smiled and her eyes began to drift, somewhere in the distance. She remembered the day when he came to Whiterun. How he was back then and what he had become. She could hear his voice even when he didn't talk to her, and she could see his eyes even when he didn't look at her.

"So, it's him then?" Hadvar chuckled and Lydia frowned.

"What?" she punched him in the shoulder. "Don't assume anything. I'm only his housecarl."

"Of course you are," he laughed. "And I wish you the best of luck in that position. It seems very difficult."

Lydia sighed. What he said was true. Being the housecarl of the Dragonborn was no easy task, she was ready to admit that. But for some reason, she didn't want things to change. And she was grateful to Hadvar that he set her free.

"I really must be going now," Hadvar glanced outside. "It's getting late. And Legate Rikke isn't known for her patience. As I said, I have to be there early tomorrow morning and that means I have to ride like a maniac throughout the night."

"Do you…know anything about Ralof?" Lydia dared to ask. She knew the two men were childhood friends. As close as brothers at one point. Damn, that blond Nord was her friend as well. But at some point in their lives, Ralof began to idolize Ulfric and his dream of freedom. And that divided them for good.

"I saw him in Helgen", Hadvar said. "Tried to save his traitorous ass at one point. I lost track of him in all that confusion. But if Ulfric survived, I'm sure the little weasel got out as well." He sounded almost relieved. Ralof stood with Jarl Ulfric, but there were times when Hadvar missed his old friend and didn't want to see him die.

They stepped outside the door. Hadvar turned to her and smiled. It was the kind of smile that warmed her heart, especially now that she knew he wasn't trying to charm her. It was a friendly, comforting smile and it made her smile back and without remorse or regret, she hugged him and wished him all the best.

And as Hadvar walked out of the city gates, Lydia turned around, opened the door, stepped inside her home, and once again wondered where her Thane had gone.


	32. Chapter 32

**32.**

He made up his mind.

There was no turning back.

Except he was coming back. With a note instead of the Horn. His anger hadn't subsided and he still felt unsatisfied. The blood boiled in him and his rational mind knew it was the poison that got to him. Amplified his feelings, made him feel jealous when there was no reason to. He could cope with small amounts; he was used to small amounts. But a full dose of Frostbite, from an adult Queen and right between his shoulder blades wasn't exactly an ideal situation.

Even his armor wasn't able to prevent that blow. Two massive holes in the steel, the blood and the sticky, slimy substance that burned in his body engraved its memory into him with fiery letters. What the Queen had bestowed on him, he paid back by killing its entire offspring, destroying its nest and cutting it to pieces. And all that before the poison took a hold of him.

Now its grip was hard and agonizing. He was barely able to stay on his horse. Barely able to see where he was going. It wasn't the first time he was grateful that his mare knew the way home. He felt his muscles tighten and starting to cramp and his vision was getting blurry. Far in the distance, he thought he saw the Dragonsreach. The faint lines of the city.

Of home.

Momentarily he considered staying the night in Riverwood, just to find out who the mystery person was. To find out who had enough guts to play games with him. But in the current situation, he wasn't at his best. In the current situation, it would be enough if he was able to get back home.

As the first severe cramp his all his muscles tightened up, his body became like a spring and he was only able to breathe in short, small gasps. He knew Frostbite wasn't the strongest of poison, far from it, in fact. But the Queens possessed a combination of toxins that caused severe reactions if not treated properly. The poison of the Queen was almost lethal. To a child, it was. It would kill a child in a few hours. A grown man, it would take days, if he didn't have any resistance. Him - it wouldn't kill him. Soon his body would start to work against it, soon his immunity would kick in. But it would take hours to recover fully. He knew this Frostbite wound would only take time. And patience. And sleep. Lots of it.

As the cramp slowly passed, as he was able to catch his breath, shake his head and clear his vision, he did notice that Whiterun wasn't that far away. He was gone for nearly five days, and during that time, he allowed his brains to work. To understand. To accept and to process. In that first night, he rode all the way to Windhelm, watched the city from afar, saw its snow-covered houses and the Palace of the Kings. Where his enemy was. An enemy that he should have finished off a long time ago. He watched it and calculated. He calculated - and turned away.

Now he was heading back home. He knew what he had to do.

He felt his hands tremble as he squeezed the bridles. Frostbite…frostbite…that reminded him of something. But how is that possible? he thought. He was never able to forget anything…what was this now? ( _There is someone waiting for you in Riften. Find him, unite the rest of our family. He doesn't admit it, but he misses us, misses you. Remember the time the when you two saw the Queen together. Foolish little boys!)_

_"_ _Where the mountain meets the sky, near the river's edge, where eagles fly._ "

A strange voice cooed into his ear, the familiar rhymes of his mother's lullaby. But those rhymes belonged to someone else. The song was divided to three parts, one for Raji, one for him and... _what in Oblivion?_  he angrily spat at himself. What are you doing? Trying to find more reasons to tie yourself harder to this world. Let go! Give up!

As his horse made its way towards the city gate and he merely slumped on its back, he found himself standing in front of a locked door. This mystery door was somewhere in the back of his mind and this was the first time he found it. And he didn't have a clue how to open it. Or what was behind it. The only sound he heard was those last rhymes, repeating over and over again in his mind.

Frostbite…it had something to do with that ( _where eagles fly_ ). And with Queens (w _here the mountain meets the sky…foolish little boys!)_. And their poison. Someone had told him about it, in his past life, before the slavery and torture and the captivity. Who? Not his parents, because they hadn't talked about these things. They hadn't talked about reality. Hadn't he just discovered a whole new part about his father?

The gate guards ran up to him as he fell from the saddle. He laid on the ground, his whole body convulsing and he heard someone yell for a healer, a priestess.  _No_ , he thought.  _I don't need a healer. I need to remember this. I need to open the door and see what my mind is trying to keep from me! (...eagles fly…foolish boys.)_

His mare nudged him gently with its chub. He felt its soft fur and with a great effort he grabbed its mane and pulled himself on his feet. At that moment, he saw everything in two, the world spun and the sky was the earth and the earth became the sky. The guards backed away and as one of the priestesses from the temple ran to him, he pushed her aside, ignored her words and staggered to the gate. Whiterun didn't matter now, Breezehome or his soft inviting bed didn't matter. His pain didn't matter, his foggy, hazy mind only wanted to open the door and see what was behind it.  _How dare you?_  he shouted at it. How dare you shut me out. If it wasn't for the poison, he would be able to open the door without problems ( _mountains...sky)._

Frostbite…frostbite…something about that. He called the name to his lips and mumbled it as he slowly dragged himself to the door of his house. People followed him, the priestess and some of the guards, but he didn't notice them. As he grabbed the handle voices started to whisper in his mind. He shook his head as to deny them and chase them away, but he still heard them…from behind that door, from underneath it.

_"Do you….how dangerous…come here?"_

_"I…to show…the nest…"_

_"That's… - - - died…Queen….deadly!"_

It was his mother's voice, angry and worried at the same time. And not just because of me. There was another who she worried about. Not Raji. Raji was too small for this adventure. No…it had been someone else.  _Someone else? (Unite the rest of our family…!)_

A warm glow of the fire greeted him inside his house. He immediately felt like suffocating, the poison together with the heat caused his heartbeat to rise and soon enough he was gasping for air. As quickly as he could he threw his axes away, they both buried themselves deep into the wooden walls but he barely noticed. He removed his armor and threw it to the floor. His boots, his cuirass, and his underclothes, all fell off him as he swung the windows open and poured a cold barrel of water over his head.

It helped but not much. Water dripped from his fur, left puddles behind as he staggered upstairs. The voices grew louder. He heard the slight amusement in his mother's voice.

_"This is the last - - - underst..?"_

_" - - - come one, lad.. - - ho-me!"_

_"You better - - - -from you fa-, boys!"_

And there it was, his bed. He fell to it like a dead man. He could barely keep his eyes open and he knew that dreams - dead dreams - would soon take him, dreams filled with hallucinations caused by the poison. But before that, he wanted to remember and understand how he could have forgotten. My brother…( _where the mountain meets the sky_ ) the one I always followed, like Raji followed me. There was someone who showed me the Frostbite nest. Someone who helped me, like I helped Raji. Pulled me up on the stone ledges, slapped me in the back of my head if I did something stupid. Watched over me in the darkest of places. Does she remember him? Or was he buried so deep in our minds that we both forgot that ever existed?

What happened to him? he tried to think. He wasn't there that day, mother told him to go back to Riften, to the orphanage, and wait for them there. Because that was meant to be the day when he could finally join their family. The little street rat, orphan, redheaded liar with his quick hands and a quicker mind. What happened to the little thief who once showed him the Queens nest? And taught him the meaning of its bite.

What had happened to their Nord brother, who he had admired and followed to the day when everything in their lives had changed?


	33. Chapter 33

**33.**

Lydia heard the rumors. Of course, she did, she was not deaf. And she heard them everywhere. At first, it was hard to believe, her mind - and especially her heart - didn't want to believe. But when Yosolda didn't deny the rumors, her stable mind wavered a little. The way Yosolda smiled whenever someone mentioned the Dragonborn made Lydia frown. Everyone in the Bannered Mare downright assumed that Yosolda had conquered the heart of the elusive and angry Khajiit. After all, she was friendly to all the other Khajiits, why not offer a little more to the hero of Skyrim.

And then there was Carlotta. Not as obvious as Yosolda, but something she could not brush off easily either. Another rumor that ran from mouth to mouth told that J'Ziir had been seen leaving Carlotta's place late at night and the two of them actually kissed passionately on her doorstep. Lydia clearly remembered Carlotta's words; she would have nothing against marrying the Dragonborn. "What's the downside?" she had brazenly asked. What made Carlotta a more believable choice was her daughter Mila. J'Ziir seemed to care for the girl. And that made Lydia feel even more insecure.

She shouldn't have. She had no reason to feel this way. J'Ziir had never hinted, never given her any indication that he wanted her. Wanted her as a woman. She wasn't even sure did he like women. But at some point, her stubborn, stupid heart began to feel pity, sympathy and then affection towards the Dragonborn. And that affection slowly turned her eyes to his direction whenever he walked past. Made her see, made her feel like a woman in need. She was angry and embarrassed to feel this way, it was not professional. Not housecarl like.

She spent the whole evening in the Bannered Mare. Breezehome was empty and lonely and she hadn't seen her Thane ever since Hadvar visited. She didn't know what there was left to do. She cleaned the house, made some food, sharpened and polished all the weapons that J'Ziir managed to collect and after all that, she felt useless.

And it was at the Bannered Mare that she heard the rumors. Hulda was the first who mentioned it, and as Yosolda came in, she just smiled and waved her head like it was nothing. Lydia frowned, drank her mead and tried not to get worked up. She didn't believe the rumors. She believed she knew her Thane better than anyone. And if he snuck out in the middle of the night, she would notice. At least she liked to believe so but she had to admit that J'Ziir was incredibly quiet when he wanted to be. If there was something he didn't want her to know, she didn't know. But he wasn't careless either. No one would catch him kissing Carlotta if he didn't want to be seen.

There was another thing that bothered her. She knew only as much as he allowed her to know. He knew almost everything about her and saw things that she tried her best to hide.  _Well_ , she comforted herself.  _At least he doesn't know what my heart wants. That's one thing he hasn't seen._

_Maybe he has_ , a small voice in head whispered. But he doesn't care about it, she concluded.  _Just because he doesn't care about feelings doesn't mean he doesn't care about...copulation. Or that he doesn't need it or seek it._

_Copulation_? Lydia huffed. Was that really the word for it? It sounded so...animalistic. And if " _copulation_ " was what her Thane searched from Yosolda and from Carlotta, then there were no feelings involved. And for him spending the night with either of the two women didn't mean more than just satisfying his basic needs.

Lydia stood up, paid Hulda what she owed and walked out of the Bannered Mare. She wasn't drunk but the cool night breeze felt wonderful on her blushed cheeks. The sky above the city was filled with stars and Lydia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. For once she wasn't wearing her armor. She felt free and light. She wore one of her few dresses, a moss green linen garb with a low cleavage and long hem. Hulda asked her what the occasion was. She replied that it was her free night, first one in ages. She didn't remember the last time she wore this dress, she spent the last weeks just running after her Thane and taking care of his needs.

Well, taking his insults was more like it. But she had to admit that he cut back on those too. It was rather rare to hear him call her a moron or a slave, his two favorite's words from the past. No, he sometimes even called her by her name. Rarely, but it was progress.

Lydia sighed and headed towards Breezehome. When she approached the house one of the guards stopped her and asked what they should do with the horse. Lydia looked at him puzzled. What horse? With few hasty words, the guard explained how the Dragonborn arrived in the city and his loyal mare was still standing in front of the gate and refused to move. Someone tried to take it to the stables but the mare was stubborn, strong and clearly waiting for its owner to come back.

Lydia suddenly felt more worried that she wanted to. A heavy weight settled down on her chest and if it wasn't for the anxious guard, she might have turned around and run straight home. But for now, she agreed to follow him. The sturdy, resilient brown mare still stood where its owner had left it. Lydia carefully approached it and at the same time, she talked to the animal in a low, calming voice. She saw its ears twitch like it listened and understood. It stepped forward and allowed her to take its bridle. She gave it a pat, smiled and caressed it and as she began to walk towards the stables, it agreed to follow her.

Twenty minutes later she opened the doors to Breezehome. The cold wind had blown the fire out and the draft immediately put out all the candles. In the dark, she banged her head straight on J'Ziir's axes that were protruding out of the wall like two blood dripping ornaments. Lydia cursed, searched for a tinderbox and finally managed to lit two candles. As one of them was blown out, she hurriedly closed all the windows.

As the place was getting brighter, she noticed the mess, the water, the wooden bucket lying on the kitchen floor, the pieces of J'Ziir's armor. The blood and some strange, slimy substance that smelled putrid and bitter. She picked up his breastplate and saw two massive holes in the backside. She glanced upstairs, tossed the armor away and hurried up. Her heart was racing as she imagined all the horrible things that might have happened to him.

_Oh Divines, please_ , she prayed.  _Let him be alive!_

The door to his bedroom was ajar but his room was enveloped in complete darkness and she heard nothing from within. She only heard her own blood pumping in her ears as she pushed the door open. He was dead. For a fleeting moment that's what she honestly believed. In the pale light that was coming from the hallway, all she could see was his motionless body. She rushed forward, lit the all the candles she could find and then she ran up to him. As soon as her hands touched his body, a huge wave of relief rushed over her. He is alive she sighed as she felt the warm flesh underneath her fingers. And then she found something else. His fur was matted with blood. There were two gaping holes in his back and that same sour smell floated in the room.

Lydia ran back down and straight into the storage room. She combed through the shelves and found two small red vials but she believed – wanted to believe – that they would last till the morning. In the first light of dawn, she would have to fetch a priestess if these small, tiny bottles weren't enough.

In the bedroom, she opened the vials and noticed he was lying on his stomach. She crawled to the other side of the bed, carefully lifted his head and tried to pour down and much of the liquid and she could. She was relieved to notice that he swallowed most of it and as the two monstrous wounds slowly began to heal his breathing became more regular and stable. For a moment she just laid there by his side. A strange tenderness took hold of her and crept into her heart. This was the first time she saw him so vulnerable and so weak. Usually, he was the epitome of strength and power. Everyone listened to him, everyone respected him and looked up to him.

She reached out her hand and slowly touched his face. The fur on his eyebrows was soft, the fur on his cheeks was slightly rougher. His whiskers were long and silky, and the dark hair that covered his whole body began from his neck where she once again noticed the sparse area of grayish hair. She allowed her hand slide to his neck and gently caressed the old scar. She was almost smiling to herself but then suddenly Yosolda's smug face popped into her head. That woman had managed to touch so much more, to explore and search and find, to feel and breathe and taste. Lydia frowned and pulled her hand away. She was annoyed by this reaction, by this jealousy that had suddenly raised its head inside of her. She didn't notice his silky tail, as it moved like it had the mind of its own and slowly brushed her bare leg. She also failed to notice his gaze, as he lifted his eyelids and his large, dilated pupils searched her face.

The room was quite dark despite all the candles but his vision was much brighter than hers ever could be. Laying there motionless, still feeling the after-effects of the poison, he looked at her. Waking up from dead dreams. Was there a better sight in this whole world? Her face, her eyebrows that were drawn together  _(what is she thinking?)_ , her lips, her green eyes. The dark hair that usually was tied behind her back and the pale, silky skin that now was revealed by her unusually exposing dress. With one clean swipe, he could have ripped her dress off and seen more. And he wanted to, how he wanted to. In his weak state of mind, he was willing to confess to himself that he wanted this woman. Wanted her to be his. Later he would blame the poison for what happened next, but for now, he was tired of denying it. Tired of fighting back. (" _Lad! Do you know what they say about Queen's poison? It's a powerful aphrodisiac! What's that you ask! Tsk, tsk. Well, let me tell you a little more about it…!)_

Lydia shook her head but Yosolda smiled wider. Like she wanted to confirm everything, to make the rumors true, to rub some salt into the wounds. She bit her lower lip, glanced the man lying by her side and decided that enough was enough. If he wanted to satisfy his needs with every woman in Whiterun, how was that any of her business? She was about to sit up and get off the bed when a strong, muscular arm grabbed her hand and pulled her back with such strength that her head hit the pillow, her hem flew up and the air pushed out of her lungs with a swoosh.

"Where do you think you are going?" a soft, velvety voice whispered in her ear.


	34. Chapter 34

**This chapter contains adult content. 18+**

* * *

**33.**

J'Ziir knew he was crazy. Hallucinating. The poison still running high in his veins, causing him to act like this. His hands were trembling but his fist on Lydia's wrist was hard and unyielding. Her eyes widened, her hair covered her face and the veins in her neck were clearly visible to him.

He shifted his weight so that he was lying on top of her, his muscular body covering hers and preventing her from leaving. But she didn't struggle or try to push him away. There was a peculiar look in her eyes. His breathing was irregular, he knew he wasn't alright. He knew he shouldn't be doing this, but the poison had another unexpected effect on his body.  _(What's an aphrodisiac? Well, lad. Let me tell you a little more about it!)_

Lydia felt it clearly. His erection against her inner thigh. And unlike the rest of his body which was covered in fur, that particular part felt hairless, soft, hot and smooth.

Warm, sharp waves shot up her body as soon as she recognized it. His hand still squeezed her wrist, her other arm was crushed up against her chest. She swallowed, blinked her eyes and looked up at him.

"He can have you for the rest of his life," J'Ziir muttered. "Every night you'll be his. Just for this one night...just once..."

His claws, sharp and curvy slid down her throat and to the cleavage of her dress. Her hands were on the way but he forced them up and pressed them hard against the mattress. He looked at her heaving chest and the claw marks he left on her pale skin. He didn't want to hurt her, but humans were so fragile. He pushed her claws underneath the cloth and began to rip it apart. And then – Lydia whimpered.

It was a sound of fear. He could clearly smell it. He knew its scent and he usually enjoyed it. To feel it, to see it in the eyes of his enemies. But to see it now, to recognize it now...

All the strength drained out of him. He removed his hands from her and realized his mistake. This woman, his housecarl, his friend who he'd to like to care for – as much as he could ever care for anyone – was the last person he wanted to hurt right now. He tried to be nicer, tried to mend his ways, even tried to change a little. For her. And this was all it led to. This violation that he was about to commit. Just to use her like the bandits that kidnapped and tortured Raji. " _You are no different than them."_

Lydia wasn't sure what was happening. She was embarrassed to admit her own arousal and as she felt his hands, his claws down her neck and in between her breasts, a sharp, joyous breath escaped her. And that sound stopped him. He was still laying on top of her, but he saw regret in his eyes, maybe sadness. Like there was something he suddenly remembered, something that made him draw back.

_By the Divines,_  Lydia frowned.  _Don't let it be Yosolda! Or Carlotta..._

Then she felt his weight move away. And with a sudden desperation, she grabbed him, wrapped her legs around his waist and pulled him closer. " _If I let him go now, he will never come back!_ " Of that she was sure. She knew her dress pulled back and revealed her thighs and he could definitely feel her naked skin against his own. Almost innocently – but knowing exactly what she was doing – she lifted her hips and grind them against his crotch. It was an invitation no one would misunderstand. Her hands clutched his shoulders and as she looked straight into his eyes, she saw confusion and embarrassment. He was clearly aroused, but like he didn't know what he was supposed to do.

She was right. He had no idea. It was like some strange door swung open, someone shoved him inside and he was naked and defenseless. Some distant part of his mind almost remembered what Beelei taught him. How she – like Lydia now – made the first move and back then – like now – he was helpless, useless and completely lost.

And like always when he felt powerless, his anger began to build.

But this time Lydia was one step ahead of him. She sensed it, saw it in his eyes and realized that there were only two ways this could go. Either she would take this to the end or she would let him go. She didn't even have to think about it. She wrapped her arms around his neck, tried to pull him closer and when he didn't budge, she lifted her own head and kissed him. She felt him jerk back, but her hold on him was tight and solid. His lips were strange, thin and alien under her own human mouth and as she slipped her warm tongue inside his mouth, she scraped her flesh on his sharp fangs and for a short moment, she was sure they could both taste blood in their kiss.

"I'm yours," Lydia whispered against his mouth. "As long as you want me to be."

Along with those words, all the old lessons came back to him. What Beelei said with her eyes and with her moans. Where his fingers burned like a tender fire and where his tongue and lips lured out soft, helpless whimpers and delicate little cries. He remembered how he liked those sounds and the need to hear them now grew with every passing moment.

His vision was still foggy and the blood was pumping in his ears. The rational part of his mind – the part that was always awake, always watching, always observing and listening - was calculating the risks, the physical effort that his body would require for mating. It warned him that there was a possibility of poisoning her if he ejaculated inside of her. The risk was small but it was there. He couldn't stop that part of his mind informing him any more than he could stop his hard on from growing bigger.

The first time Lydia moaned was when he dragged his teeth gently down her neck. His raspy tongue tasted her skin and he drew her scent deep inside. The soft smell of soap and leather and herbs. He felt the sudden need to mark her, bite down on her neck and make sure she would never again mate with another man. But even in his poison filled mind, he knew it wasn't some happy ending that would follow this act. He would have to return her to the Nord. But she wouldn't go unspoiled. He would leave things behind. She would bare his claw marks. His scent. His memory.

With steady hands and looking straight into her eyes, he tore the dress off of her. She jumped, but not out of fear. The sound of ripping fabric exited her, told her that this was a grown man she was going to sleep with. Not one of the shy, insecure guard boys she had experienced earlier. Her heart jumped. This was the Dragonborn, her Thane. He had once asked her if this was part of her duties. To " _satisfy his every need_ ", like he mockingly remarked. This wasn't a duty or a part of her job. She did this, gave herself to him voluntarily because she wanted to. Had wanted for a while now.

His hands slid down, lower and lower until he brushed – very slowly and carefully – her exposed breasts. His eyes didn't leave hers, he wanted to see what his fingers and his claws were doing to her. He was teasing her, not really touching where she wanted him to touch. Finally, she grabbed his hand and guided his fingers, first in the deep valley of her breasts and then to her hardened nipples that ached for his caresses.

She whimpered and arched her back. To be closer, to feel, even more, to give him more of her. His wet, hot mouth followed the route of his fingers and she gasped for air when his raspy, rough tongue licked the hard nub. As his mouth closed around it, teased it and nibbled it, her stomach convulsed, she buried her hands in his fur and pressed his head onto her chest. She was blinded by pleasure, his wet mouth made her tingle and shiver, she couldn't help the wild sounds escaping her lips that echoed in the room. She lifted her hips, wanted, and wanted him to touch her down there, between her legs, where she was getting wet and warm and throbbing.

He heard the sounds. The sounds of pleasure. He felt her hands. Pulling. They were on his fur, tried to grab and hold and guide him. But he was in no hurry. He constantly found new places to touch and wherever he lingered, a new sound followed. He spent a long time savoring her breasts and her stiff nipples, sucked them, licked them, knead them. To him, her body was like a new continent that he had just discovered.

As his curious fingers found the soft skin on her inner thighs, she grabbed his wrist. He looked up at her, blushed cheeks, her tangled hair, and her glowing green eyes. He saw lust and craving in them and he didn't understand why she stopped him. Few drops of sweat gleamed on her forehead and he saw one the drops run down her neck.

"It's not…"Lydia stuttered. "I don't…want to be one of them…one of your other women…"

He didn't know what she was talking about. There were no women in his life. But he heard the rumors like everyone else. Yosolda. Carlotta. Maybe others. He realized she wanted some kind of reassurance, a promise. Something he could not give. He could not tell her that he loved her, because he didn't. He could not tell her that he would always make her happy because he couldn't. He could only tell her the truth. That had to be enough.

"There is no one else," he finally said with a low voice. "Just you."

Something in her changed. Opened. Welcomed this feeling. Her denial was like an old, fragile pot that fell to the floor and shattered to pieces. There was no going back now. She would stay by his side, no matter what happened.

She released his hand. He hesitated for a moment, searching for an answer, an invitation to invade further. And as such a gesture came he caressed her higher until his warm hand found what it was looking for. He pushed her small clothes aside and touched her hot core, found her already wet and wanting. He didn't know much about human anatomy, but her heavy breathing, the look on her face and sounds she was making made it easy for him to find the most sensitive spots. He slipped his fingers inside, he was wary with his claws because this part of her was evidently very soft and sensitive. He probed her first with just one finger and after he felt her body relax, he added another. She was tight, warm and wet and her muscles flexed to accommodate his exploring hand. His thumb found the hard little nub in the apex of her opening and began to circle it, slowly, tenderly, softly and she lifted her hips towards his hand, swayed and danced to the rhythm of his movements.

Lydia's hands opened and closed, opened and closed, she searched, fondled, and explored his body. The thick, black fur that covered him from head to toe. His warm, hard muscles underneath it. His ribs that she could feel, the hard nubs of his backbone. His numerous scars, the grayish circle on his neck. And finally his silky, smooth manhood. Like a blind person who could see for the first time, she was enchanted and euphoric. She could not take her hands away from him, she squeezed him, rubbed him and marveled at the organ as it moved and twitched under her exploring fingers. She realized she was wrong. It was not completely smooth. It was covered in hard, sharp spines, but that just excited her more. He was at least as thick as her wrist and for a moment she was worried would she ever be able to take him inside of her.

Her hands of his erection caused him to groan. Instead of constant pain and anguish, feeling such pleasure was foreign and scary to him. He didn't pull away from her, he felt his arousal growing as her hand moved up and down, first slowly and then faster, much faster. He knew he wouldn't last long. The poison was still affecting his stamina and the years of loneliness…he hadn't even thought about this before Lydia was pushed into his life.

She was so close, his fingers drove her crazy. She felt him pull away and she begged him not to stop, begged him to continue. She was a little surprised at herself, hearing such needy voices coming out of her own mouth. She reached out her hands and tried to pull him back to her. Instead, he ripped off her underwear, spread her legs, pushed her torn dress aside and guided himself to her. Lydia only managed to take a deep breath and then he penetrated her. Fast, hot, hard and merciless.

At that point, he didn't care about her pleasure anymore. As he felt her muscles clench around him, squeeze him and embrace him, he couldn't have cared less even if a dragon landed on his rooftop and tore his house to pieces. It was enough if the bed remained intact. His claws dug on to the headboard and they left deep scratch marks on the wood. The woman underneath him grabbed his head in her hands, stared into his eyes. In them, he saw wild abandonment and a silent request.  _Continue...continue..._

Like his wild, savage partner, Lydia only knew pleasure. All her feelings, all her thoughts were now concentrated on her lower body, the steady movements of his shaft, how the hard nubs chafed and scraped her skin, in and out, connected to her, like it was always meant to be. He fitted her so perfectly, filled her up so completely. At that moment she truly believed that there was another reason why this man was sent to this land. He was sent to her. She looked down to where they were joined. Again and again, she saw him disappear inside her, he took her and made her his, without questioning his rights. She flung her head back as he nibbled her neck. Sweat gleamed on her skin as she clung on to him, wrapped her legs around him and held on to him for dear life.

As she exploded, she saw stars, bright colors and her high pitched scream filled the room. She came only moments before he did. She clawed his back, forgot the deep wounds in his flesh, drew blood with her fingers and caused him to curse and cry in pain. Her muscles tightened, she was gasping for air and over and over again she welcomed him inside her. His body reacted very quickly and while she was still convulsing, he pushed as deep as he could and finally shot his seed inside of her. They were both moaning, Lydia kept repeating his name, and her soft, husky voice calling him was something he would remember for the rest of his life. This woman actually wanted him, genuinely and honestly wanted him. A warm, strange liquid filled her body but she wasn't scared or worried. It felt natural, to have something of his. Something that no other woman had received.

Moments later J'Ziir slumped on top of her. Spent and tired. Exhausted. Lydia welcomed his weight and tenderly wrapped her arms around him. Only now she noticed the blood on his back and remorsefully she caressed his wounds. As he fell asleep on top of her, still inside her, she only smiled and felt like she had now finally found her reasons for existing, her reason for being in this world. To be here by his side. To guard him, to help him, to be his safe place where he could always stop to catch his breath. From now on that was her duty, one that she would not forsake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact. Apparently, some cats (like the common house cat) have penile spines (in the "Real Barenziah" it is also indicated that Khajiits have them). And some spider bites do cause priapism (a condition of a painful and long-lasting erection). So...it's not completely far-fetched. :)


	35. Chapter 35

**35.**

It was raining on the early morning when Sura planned to leave Whiterun. Like a silent ghost, she slipped out of the Dragonsreach, squeezed her small knapsack in her hands and looked straight ahead. Fear was trying to grab its hold on her, but she refused to give it any power. She lived under its shadow long enough. She knew she had to do this, had to leave. For her own sake, to find where she came from and where she belonged. After that, she might be able to return. Return to this home that she cherished so much. As she walked ahead, she looked back just once, briefly. She didn't say goodbyes to anyone; it would only make things harder. Knowing Jarl Balgruuf, he probably wouldn't let her go by herself, not after everything that happened. She turned to look ahead and quickened her pace. If she hesitated now, she wouldn't be able to take the first step.

The city was still sleeping. It was quite early but she wasn't surprised to hear the pounding of a steady hammer from Skyforge. Eorlund was always early. No matter the weather, the cold, or the heat, he was always at his forge, doing what he did best. She felt sorry that she hadn't been able to join him in such a long time. Given the situation, she felt she at least had to visit him. As she walked past Jorrvaskar, for the first time in ages she wondered was Vilkas around. And as his familiar face emerged in front of her mind's eyes, her heart jumped and she remembered all her feelings for him as well. She was glad to notice that those feelings weren't dead. She still loved him but with sad certainty, she knew that Vilkas had probably moved on. After all, he was not a man who lacked a female company. There was someone better for him, someone who was ( _you are just damaged goods!_ ) kind and virtuous and pure. A warrior like him, who fought with metal and might, not with arcane arts, fire, and lighting.

His image followed her like a mournful shadow as she walked up the stone stairs. Eorlund heard her coming but didn't cease his work. He hadn't seen the Khajiit girl for a long, long time. And now that she appeared at the top of the stairs he recognized the changes in her. She seemed free. Calm, confident, sure of what she was doing. And still - nervous. Sad. But determined to go on. To survive and to grow stronger. These were all good sings. This cold, hard land gave cruel and harsh lessons. Without them, one wouldn't be able to survive. Many didn't but this tough, little creature seemed to have found her strength.

"Eorlund," she greeted him with a smile. "How are you doing?"

"Going somewhere?" he pointed at her knapsack.

"I'm leaving Whiterun," Sura said.

"Without an armor?" Eorlund glanced at her clothes. The thin steel blue tunic wasn't going to protect her out there in the wild. She had a simple leather belt on her waist, long trousers, and sturdy boots. He was mildly amused but mostly worried when he noticed that she didn't have any weapons or shields.

"I'm not going by foot," Sura assured. "There's a carriage leaving from the stables every day..."

"And you think those carriages are safe from bandits and thieves?" he asked. "When you are not within the city walls you are not safe. You of all people should know."

"I came to say goodbye," Sura ignored his comment. "I don't know when I'll return. I just wanted to thank you for everything..."

"No need to thank me," the old man scoffed. "And I'm not the one you should be saying goodbye to."

"What do you mean?" Sura asked and her eyes began to wander around.

"He is not here," Eorlund said. "He has been coming and going like a madman. Never staying for more than a few hours. Such an obedient man as him going against Kodlak's wishes. Even his brother doesn't seem to know what to do. Seems to me that he is trying his best to forget something. Or someone."

"When is he coming back?" Sura grabbed his arm. It had been such a long time since she and Vilkas talked. Since she even saw him. And now...now that she was leaving she realized that she couldn't just go without telling him.

"I don't know," Eorlund shrugged.

"I can't wait for him," Sura shook her head and didn't know what to do. "Will you tell him that I came by? And I'm heading to Riften...in case he wants to know..."

"What am I? A courier for Mara herself?" Eorlund grunted.

She released his hand and took a step back. At that moment she seemed so lost, so confused that Eorlund's heart melted a little and he nodded. Then he sighed, turned and pulled out the package he'd been holding ever since Sura was taken. He cared for the girl, had always liked her. His will to protect her made him take out the most valuable materials he had - the piece of stalhrim he had once acquired from Solstheim. People said only Skaals knew how to work it, but Eorlund was no novice or beginner. He liked his steel but there wasn't a metal or material in Nirn he hadn't tried on at one point. Stalhrim was tough, difficult and stubborn ore, but he bent it to his will like any other mineral he used. He made a protective armored vest and bracers for the wrists and for legs. On top of the package was a small leather pouch and he hesitated for a moment. Vilkas asked him for two rings a long, long time ago. But he never returned to collect them. He didn't know what would happen but the fate of these two people was in the hands of the Divines now. He liked Sura and he liked Vilkas. And the thought of them together, happy and smiling, almost made him smile and remember the days when he and his Fralia were young and in love. It was long overdue, and love in Skyrim was valuable and rare. He didn't say a word as he handed the leather package to her.

"Take care of yourself out there," were his goodbyes. "This one is for you as well," he pointed at the small leather purse.

"What's in it?" Sura asked.

"Vilkas asked me to make something," Eorlund replied. "When you see him, give it back to him."

"But...don't you see him every day..?" Sura tried but Eorlund shook his head.

He patted her on the back, sighed again, walked down the stairs and left her alone at the Skyforge. For the longest time, she stood there holding those small packages. She never expected gifts or anything like this from him. To her, he was always a valued teacher, someone she held in high regard. And he always treated her like his apprentice, never giving praise but always driving her to do better. She opened the larger package. When she saw what was inside she turned around and looked for him. Such valuable gifts, given to her, to her! Why would he? When she was just  _(damaged goods!)_  a cat, not even a Nord. But he was nowhere to be seen anymore. Of course, he wouldn't risk seeing her tears and making it all awkward and uncomfortable for both of them. She knew the best way to thank him was to put his gifts to good use. And so while still standing at the shadows of the Skyforge, she slipped the armored vest on and was amazed how stern and secure it felt. At the same time, it was incredibly light to wear. It didn't impede her movements at all. She wore the bracers and when the whole armor was on her, she took a few steps and noticed that it was very easy to move it. Light and durable, invisible but necessary. That's what most of his armors were like. You didn't notice it until you needed it until it saved your life.

She folded the deer pelt and left it on his anvil. At least this way he knew that she appreciated and used his gifts. The smaller pouch was still in her hand and she wondered what was in it. His words echoed in her mind.  _"Vilkas asked me to make something, when you see him, give it back to him."_ She considered leaving the pouch on the anvil but she'd dawdled long enough. She sighed and stuffed the pouch inside her knapsack. Now she needed to leave before someone at the Reach would notice her absence.

She hurried through the Market and stopped for a moment in front of the Breezehome. J'Ziir and Lydia left the city a couple of days ago. And like always, neither of them said anything before they were gone. Just the empty house and some rumors told her that once again her famous brother had gone off to some wild adventure and like a small, determined shadow, his housecarl accompanied him.

She wanted to talk to her brother some more, there were some memories she couldn't place. People she wasn't sure existed at all. A few nights ago a strange man entered her dreams and into her childhood. Well, he was not exactly a man, he was more like a redheaded, wild, young beast, laughing like a maniac and always getting into trouble. His hands were magical, he could pick any lock in his way, pickpocket even the best guards and noblemen, almost steal someone's clothes of their backs. He was older than J'Ziir, not much, only a few years. And in her dreams, she called him "elder brother". He laughed at her and said his real name which she couldn't hear. Then he pinched her cheek and said that she was too cute to be his sister. In fact, he intended to marry her when she grew older. She would have liked to ask J'Ziir did he remember that boy or was he only a figment of her imagination. She didn't know where Lydia and J'Ziir had gone and she didn't have any idea how to relay a message to him, to let him know that she was no longer in Whiterun. But she believed that once he came back people of the city would tell him where she was. If he was interested to follow her, he would eventually find her.

Without looking back she walked out of the city gate, took out her small coin purse and counted her gold. It would be enough to get her to Riften and while she was there, it would probably last for a few days. Long enough for her to locate her family's old home and find out what had happened. Determined and feeling surprisingly calm she walked towards the stables. The carriage was there but the driver was nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was too early after all. The rain had nearly stopped, its grey veil was heading towards the North and the morning sun peeked through the clouds. She sat down on the grass near the stables and watched the horses. Most of them were still sleeping, hanging their heads or munching some hay. Only one of them seemed bright and active. It was a black stallion with white socks. She had never seen it before and curiosity got the better of her. She stood up and walked to it. She didn't notice the stallion's owner but he didn't fail to notice her.

Vilkas recognized her immediately when she walked towards the stables. The morning was very quiet and a lone woman out and about was not that hard to spot. He was trying to concentrate on his horse and as he stopped grooming the stallion turned and nudged him on his shoulder. He smiled and patted its back. Her extraordinary armor caught his attention. He had never seen it before, but he recognized Eorlund's work. What surprised him that Eorlund actually made an armor out of something else than steel. And for someone else than a Companion. He knew that Eorlund cared for the girl and he did have extensive knowledge of smithing. Steel wasn't his only material, but it was something he preferred to work with.

Vilkas was out for most of the night, slaying bears and saber cats with Farkas and Aela. For the most part, he kept his beast under control, a long talk with Kodlak helped. They returned on the early hours of the morning and by now his brother and his Shield-Sister were probably already asleep. Well, he chuckled to himself, knowing Farkas he went straight to the Bannered Mare and now he is getting hammered. Or bedding three different women at the same time.

Vilkas' eyes followed Sura as she walked to the carriage. He wondered where she was going. Was she leaving? By herself? That she would wander of alone made him worry and he frowned. If she was heading somewhere, it would be better if someone accompanied her. Like her newly found Dragonborn brother. But like everyone else in Whiterun he also knew that once again J'Ziir was out of the city. So much for that idea, Vilkas sighed. He watched her for a while, unable to tear his gaze away. Her eyes were like deep mountain ponds, too blue and too bright to see the bottom. Her white hair had grown, it circled her face now like a cute soft mane but he could still make out the dark circle that began from the top of her other ear. The line he had once wanted to follow. To know where it ended.

Sura stopped in front of the stall, smiled at the stallion and talked to it with a calm and steady voice. It stopped its restless prancing, its ears twitched and it listened to her. She caressed its silky mane and Vilkas was amused and intrigued to notice that his sturdy, stubborn stallion did not shy away from her. Usually, it was very selective when it came to people it allowed to touch it.

"Where's your owner?" Sura asked from the horse. "Maybe he should take you out for a ride since you are so impatient."

"He has just arrived from a ride," Vilkas couldn't stay silent any longer and he stepped out from the shadows.

Sura raised her eyes. It was him, the one person she really wanted to see. The one person she was afraid she wouldn't be able to see. All these mixed emotions and beneath all of it, a certain feeling of security and serenity. She wasn't afraid or startled. She wasn't angry because he hadn't made his presence known earlier. She was staring at him, devouring him with her eyes, like she couldn't get enough of him. His grey eyes, his dark hair that grew and the overnight stubble on his chin. His silent, strong frame that was covered by the steel armor. Security and tranquility. Tight control of his darker side. That's what she sensed just by looking at him.

"Is he yours?" Sura smiled. "What a beauty."

"Beauty filled with trouble," Vilkas said when his stallion nudged his shoulder. "C'mon, boy. Calm down."

"What's his name?" Sura asked.

"Abaccus," Vilkas said. The stallion turned his head and nudged him again. "Yes, that's you. Too smart to be an animal. Too stupid to be a human."

"I guess his not used to stay in one place for too long," Sura moved her eyes from the horse to its owner. "Like his owner. It's been a long time."

"It has," Vilkas nodded. "I...well...you seem to be doing better. That's good."

What meaningless words those were. He was always praised for his brain and this was literally the first time he found himself at loss for words. He cleared his throat and patted his stallion all the while trying to find something to say.

"I'm leaving Whiterun," Sura explained. "It was good that I saw you here. I wanted to say goodbye."

"Where are you going?" he asked. His voice was a bit too cold and harsh. It wasn't his business...but still...

"Riften," Sura answered. "I was waiting for the driver. Do you know when returns?"

"Are you going by yourself?" Vilkas frowned. "Without any protection or weapons?"

"It's not like I have a choice," Sura said patiently. "If I want to find out more about myself and about my past, I can't just hide in the corners for the rest of my life. I'll think I'll be alright."

Vilkas looked at her, really looked, and tried his best to understand. This was her Sura. But she was also a complete stranger, someone he didn't know. He was so used to seeing the timid little Khajiit girl, a little too shy to say what was on her mind. This new Sura forced him to change his ways and he didn't like it. But all the same, he knew that whether it was the newly found Zahraji or the old familiar Sura, he loved them both. And wanted to keep them safe. It seemed he could not persuade her. And he didn't really see any reason why he should. After all, wasn't finding her past something that she wanted for years. It would not be right of him to stop her now. And like Eorlund before him, he decided to help. He turned to his stallion and saddled him. He wasn't worried for his horse, it was used to riding long distances with little rest.

"Are you also leaving?" Sura asked when she noticed him putting on the bridle.  _If you are going now, how can I tell you...anything...about anything..._

He smiled at her and walked his stallion out. He jumped on his horse and calmed the animal down, it was ready for another ride in this cold, unforgiving land. Like him, it had experienced the snow, the freezing tundras and the chilling icy water of the rivers. Like him, it had seen the golden autumn leaves of Riften, and the lush forests of Falkreath. And not once neither the stallion nor its owner backed down. He eventually looked down on her from the saddle and then he held out his hand.

"Get on," he said.

"What?" Sura was baffled.

"The carriage isn't leaving for hours," Vilkas said. "Trust me, I know. And before you even have a chance to step on it, the Jarl will probably send someone after you and prevent you from going. Would you rather wait here for that moment or go together with me?"

What he said was true and accurate, Sura admitted. But going together with him...she wasn't sure how this journey of hers would end. Endearing him wasn't something she wanted.

"You can think of me as your personal bodyguard," Vilkas offered. "Pay me. I am a Companion, after all. That's what I do."

"How much do you charge then?" Sura asked warily.

"500 Septims," Vilkas answered and his voice was serious and stern. "That's the standard fee."

"I don't have that much," Sura frowned.

"I'll give you a discount," Vilkas grabbed her hand and pulled her up effortlessly. When the horse moved beneath them, she instinctively grabbed his shoulders to stay on. When he glanced back, she avoided his eyes and cleared her throat.

"You'll need to hold on better than that," he said, took her hands and wrapped them around his waist. "If I'm going to protect you, letting you fall of the horse in the first few meters wouldn't look too good now, would it?"

She didn't answer but didn't remove her hands either. She was closer to him than she had been in months and as the familiar scent of lavender and tundra cotton filled his senses, Vilkas smiled to himself. As the sun climbed higher to the now clear sky, he urged his stallion to move. Within minutes they were on the road.


	36. Chapter 36

**36.**

Most of their journey was quiet and uneventful. It seemed that everyone and everything avoided them. Sura saw few animals, wolves mainly, but as soon as they came across them, they vanished into the forest whimpering and afraid. Even the angry cave bear with two small cubs allowed them to move on peacefully. She wasn't exactly sure what was going on, but a memory made its way to her mind and before long she knew why the animals evaded them. She was traveling with the most dangerous beast of them all. She couldn't see it, but she could smell it. The scent wasn't strong, but she sensed it. Pungent, lingering smell of a creature was strong, overwhelming and powerful. She had never seen the wolf in real life, in her dreams she had seen its shadow. She wondered what would call out such a transformation. And how did he keep it under control?

As the day passed away they arrived at a crossroad. Vilkas automatically turned his stallion towards Ivarstead. He knew the journey would be significantly shorter and they could stay the night in at the Inn. He glanced at the sky. The night wasn't very far away. And with darkness, his beast began to wake. And call out its need to hunt. Being surrounded by people usually helped. That's why he preferred the Inn and not an outside campfire with just the two of them. The forest around them held too many beating hearts for his beast to detect. He didn't ask her which way she wanted to go because he assumed that getting to Riften as fast as possible was their primary objective. But before they could continue their journey she stopped him.

"No," she said quietly. "Go the other way."

"To Windhelm?" he glanced back at her. "Are you sure? Going through Ivarstead shortens the journey by half and..."

"Go towards Windhelm," Sura interrupted him. "Someone is waiting for us. For me."

"Waiting?" Vilkas cocked his eyebrow. "Who and why?"

"I don't know yet," Sura said. Her face was covered in uncertainty. She frowned, looked at the road that led to Ivarstead and then to the road that led to Windhelm. The whisper came again. A quiet, calming voice, leading her and showing her the right way. "I don't know," she repeated. "But I need to go towards Windhelm."

"Windhelm is not very friendly to outsiders," Vilkas persuaded. "It will take hours before we get there. We would have to ride through the night."

"We can set up camp," Sura assured him. "I'm not going into the city. But...I have to go that way to reach Riften. There is something important that I must see...or hear...or someone that I must meet. I can't explain it, but..."

"Alright," Vilkas agreed. "As you wish." He turned Abaccus around and led him on towards North. He was feeling restless but would do his best to hide it from Sura. The last thing she needed to see was his rampant beast trying to break loose of its confinement.

"Thank you," she murmured softly.

They continued on for a couple of hours. Windhelm was still quite far away but the sun began to set and the shadows grew longer. The small river valley was soon enveloped by twilight. The first stars began to shine and Sura lifted her head up. The sky was clear and bright, the huge twin moons loomed on top of them and only the sound of water and small forest critters surrounded them.

"Maybe we should stop for the night," Sura suggested. She loved the river's edge, the unclouded sky, and the shining stars and she was in no hurry to get to Windhelm. She knew that whatever was meant to happen, it would reveal itself tomorrow. She wasn't sure how Vilkas would react to her suggestion. He was a warrior, after all, used to traveling long distances without sleep or rest.

"The road isn't safe during the night," he said. "We need to find a place that's a bit more secluded. If there are bandits about they will spot us immediately if we stay here."

She nodded. Of course, that was true. But she knew also that neither of them was defenseless, least of all him. She jumped off the horse and stretched herself. Hours of sitting really got her muscles to tighten up. Abaccus nudged her in the shoulder as if demanding to know why they stopped.

"Yes, thank you," Sura giggled and patted its muzzle. "I think we need to rest now."

They walked on for a while and as the night settled in they found a small clearing by the river. The road wasn't far and a patch of pine trees covered the area between. The river made a sharp turn and large rocky cliffs offered more coverage. Sura stopped by the river's edge, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She hadn't felt this free in a long time. Vilkas removed the saddle and the bridle from Abaccus and allowed the stallion to roam free. It never went too far and it always returned to its owner.

"I'll go see if I can find something to eat," he said. "There's is a tent in one of the bags..."

"Who would want to sleep in a tent on such a night?" Sura interrupted.

"Nevertheless, the nights are cold," Vilkas insisted. "At least take out the sleeping bags. I'll make us a fire when I return. I won't be far, just call out if you need some help."

"I'll be fine," she assured him.

He hesitated for a moment, eyed at Abaccus and ordered the horse to remain at camp. It could at least offer some protection if something happened while he was away. He wasn't sure what he would find but the forests of Skyrim always offered plenty of game. Rabbits, birds, deer. And like before, his wolf sensed his eagerness to hunt and suddenly he felt and saw the heartbeats of the nearby animals. This time he would have to be quicker and settle for smaller prey. He glanced at her once more and then vanished into the shadows of the trees.

Even with Vilkas gone the feeling of freedom and happiness remained. The feeling of safety. She smiled as she looked around and she was humming to herself when she began to gather small sticks and branches from the shore. She piled them together, placed some dry bark in between the cracks and snapped her fingers. The flames came easily, it was almost too simple. She watched her hand as the fire enveloped it and she felt no pain. She knew she could control it now. She remembered how much strength and trouble and energy she needed before when she still was Farengar's apprentice and he taught her the small, the weak, the easiest spells. And how even those required concentration and peace. No wonder she hadn't been able to defend herself back then. If the Orc came back now and tried to attack her, she wouldn't need much time to call fire, wind, ice, even the fiercest of thunderstorms by her side. It felt like cheating like she didn't really earn all these powers that she suddenly possessed. But father didn't give her any choice. He sent her back with and bestowed a fragment of his own powers, spells that she never used before. She knew the Companions didn't care for magic. The Nords, in general, didn't appreciate magical talents. That's why no one really knew what she was capable of. And she had no idea how Vilkas would react to her talents. In a few minutes, she had a good campfire going and she found the sleeping bags. She laid them in front of the fire, one on each side. She didn't have any expectations of them sleeping together.

_(damaged goods!) (damaged goods!) (damaged goods!) (damaged goods!)_

She shook her head and forced the words away. That voice had been inside her head for days now. On one hand, she felt happy and free and independent. On the other hand, she was only a cat, defective and imperfect. Not good enough, never good enough. A lower race. She wasn't comparable to a Nord, not even to an Imperial. Her race, like the Argonians and the Dunmer, were second best, the slaves, the beasts and the unwanted. And now, even when the Dragonborn was a Khajiit, was he any more respected than an average Nord. No, even less. " _Then why?"_  the bitter voice inside her asked.  _"Why demand him to help this land and its people?"_ Because! she whispered to herself. Not all of them are like that. Lydia is good and kind, the Jarl is good and kind...

She stood up, walked by the river and tried to find the happy mood that she suddenly lost. She looked her own mirror image and tried to see the change in herself. Yes, she might have become stronger, even more independent, but was she really that different. Inside she was still the same old Sura, with the same old feelings. Sura. Zahraji. She wasn't sure which one she should have been. Raji remembered her parents and her brother( _s_ ) and loved them dearly. Sura remembered the Jarl and Lydia and Vilkas and loved them all as much. The two halves of her being were fighting and she wasn't sure how to combine these different beings into one whole person. She didn't hear when Vilkas returned to the camp. He knew how to move quietly, it was second nature to him. He caught two hares and as he laid them down by the fire, she turned to him. In that brief moment, before a fake smile rose on to her face, he wasn't sure what he saw.

"You're back," Sura walked to him and took the hares. "And not empty-handed. Let's see what we can cook out these two poor things."

"Give it your best shot," Vilkas said. "I'm no Gourmet."

Sura cocked her head and smiled. "Neither am I. Well, at least you know who to blame when you get food poisoning."

They ate in silence. It was getting late but neither of them was tired. Vilkas' beast blood kept him awake and alert, Sura had too many feelings, too many unsaid words running in circles inside her head. There were so many things she wanted to say and now that they were alone it was a perfect time. But she didn't know how to start. Or where. From her childhood...from the weird but also comforting return of her brother...or from the most obvious and from the most painful, Mistwatch.

"You should get some rest," Vilkas finally said. "We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. I'll keep watch. You don't have to worry."

"Why would I worry?" Sura sighed. "I have a wolf by my side..."

The words left her mouth and only seconds later she realized what she said. She stared at the flames and clearly felt Vilkas' grey eyes upon her. The forest was quiet, the night was quiet. Only the fire crackled between them and she couldn't remove her gaze from it. She believed his beast form was a secret that she should not have known. And now that she knew...now what?

"I wasn't aware you knew," Vilkas swallowed.

"I can smell it from you," Sura answered. "Almost see it. That's why nothing attacked us today. The animals, they all see it too, don't they?"

"Yes," he nodded. "It's enough to carry the shadow with me. I don't have to release the creature itself."

"I saw you in my dreams," Sura began and wrapped her arms around her legs. "When my parents took me from this world when they showed me my memories, you were there, in the mist. Disguised as a wolf."

Vilkas didn't say anything. There wasn't much to say. Only the Circle members knew. Only the Circle members were. And Kodlak asked him and his brother to give up this curse. To him, it didn't matter. Until that day when he lost control and ripped the Orc to pieces. When he saw what happened to Sura, that kind, beautiful, innocent girl he loved so dearly. To that girl who never wanted to hurt anyone in her life. After that, he turned countless times. He came and went in a red haze, destroyed everyone that came across him. He fed, drank their blood and he felt how his beast became stronger and how the Daedric Prince Hircine laughed in his Hunting Grounds, how he enjoyed. Farkas followed his brother, accompanied him, not always to hunt but to keep him safe.

"It doesn't bother me," Sura interrupted his thoughts. "It's part of you. Like what happened to me is part of me. We both have our own beasts, our own curses. Yours is the wolf. Mine...mine is the Orc."

"He still follows you?" Vilkas dared to ask.

"Only in my nightmares," Sura replied. "And that doesn't happen very often anymore."

That was true. She didn't see the Orc that much. But every now and then he loomed in the shadows, just in the corner of her eye, his red eyes burning. And when she turned, he was gone. She learned to live with it. She knew he would never completely leave. With a soft voice, she told him about the dream she saw and relived, where almost everything about her past was revealed. When she met her parents, her brother. She faced her worst fears. Destroyed him, almost completely. Vilkas listened and didn't interrupt her. He sensed sadness in her voice but also the relief. To finally know and remember. To find a place she belonged. This journey to Riften was also part of that discovery. He didn't question her, he only wanted to accompany her and keep her safe.

She still had more to say but she couldn't sit still while talking about it. The words were like jumpy rabbits inside her, she wanted to shout them out to the world but at the same time, she was terrified of what they would cause. She took a deep breath and stood up. She walked away from the fire, to the shore where she could feel the cold wind caress her face. Vilkas watched her frame. The soft, white fur had grown into a long, wavy hair. She removed her armor and was standing there in that thin steel blue tunic. She looked lonely, small and fragile. And still, he could sense a core that was made from steel and a will that was forged from iron. Resilience. Persistence. She looked weak outside but was much stronger on the inside. Her strength was hidden, but you could see it in her eyes.

"Maybe," Sura finally continued. "What happened to me... was right...maybe...I deserved it...to make me what I am..."

"No!" Vilkas argued, stood up and walked to her. He grabbed her arms, forced her to look him in the eyes and shook her almost violently. "Don't say that! No one deserves that. No one!"

"But it gave me memories back," Sura stated. "Isn't that a fair price to pay..."

"For what?" Vilkas's grip was like iron on her shoulders. "For a past that you can't change? For answers that only cause you pain? For a family that is long gone? How is that fair in any way?"

"To remember the bad is better than not remember at all," Sura remained calm. "Before I didn't know who I was or where I came from. I had no past and no future. I was a nobody."

"To me you were..!" Vilkas whispered. "You were..."

"I know," Sura nodded. "That you once cared for me. More than I deserved. And I am grateful for that."

"Grateful?" Vilkas stuttered. "Grateful..? For what? I was not able to keep you safe."

"It wasn't your duty," Sura cried and added without thinking. "You are not my family."

Those words cut deeper than she realized. Vilkas released his hands and backed away. True, they were not family, not related to each other in any way. They shared no relation at all. They were barely friends. Protecting her wasn't his duty. She felt only gratitude for his feelings. She didn't want to include him in her life. She might leave Whiterun, maybe Skyrim, for good. Who knew where the Dragonborn's path would lead. And since he was her family, she might follow him. The only real family she had left. He turned away from her. He wished he could have faced her and told her not to leave him behind. He wanted to say that whatever she would face, he would be there, every step of the way. But it seemed time had done its damage. It had corrupted their future. A future that wasn't there, to begin with.

Suddenly Sura didn't know what to do. She was completely helpless, everything slipped out of her fingers. She wanted to reach out, grab him and hold him back. He was not her family, how cruel could she be! She had not meant it like that. She only meant...he was not her family...now...but if...if it was ever possible...

" _Don't think about it!_ " Lydia's voice shouted in her head. " _Tell him. Say it! Before you regret it!_ "

She made her choice. A leap of faith. If her father had been there at that moment, he might have recognized his late wife in his daughter. The same stubborn nature, the courage to stand up for your loved ones. Namada was always the one who acted before she thought things through. Never shaking, never hesitating. But taking those few steps towards Vilkas required more courage than anything before this moment. Facing the Orc, knowing the truth about her family, those moments crushed her, smashed her into small pieces but eventually she was able to gather herself and grow stronger. If this man rejected her now, she knew it would be the last time she saw him. His rejection would mean that she would not be able to face him ever again. It would mean leaving immediately and cutting him completely of her life. The thought of him being only a memory made her even more desperate to grab him and make him stay.

She rushed forward, wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her cheek against his back. She felt her own heart race, she had never been this afraid to say something. Do or die, that's not much of a choice, she thought, but Lydia was right. It was the only way to stop this torment, and not create any more misunderstandings. She closed her eyes and said the words her heart sent to her lips.

"I love you."

Her whisper was a like a thunder in that quiet, dark night. Her small hands were strong and her body pressed tightly at his back. In that split second, before he turned to face her, a thousand thoughts crossed his mind. She had not meant it like that, she just said it to comfort him, she didn't really...she felt only gratitude...this was a trick of some Daedric Lord that wanted to mess around with mortals...his mind did not want to believe it. She had the courage, he didn't...

"I love you," she said it again and the words came out easier. This time her voice was louder and more confident.

He spun around but she didn't remove her arms. He had her effortlessly in his embrace, right there where he always wanted her to be. Her head rested in the crook of his neck. He could feel the soft fur of her forehead against his chin. Slowly he lifted his hands, pulled her closer and buried his face into her hair. He remained quiet and Sura lifted her eyes to look at him.

"I...I wanted to tell you," she murmured. "Because all these years I've been avoiding it. Trying my best to hide it. Trying to wish this feeling away. I never felt I was worthy of you...a cat like me..."

"To me you were everything," Vilkas finally found his words. "You  _are_  everything."

"I don't want to force this upon you," she continued and lowered her eyes. "I know I'm not...whole...I'm broken...that creature took me and used me and made me worthless..."

He interrupted her, gently cupped her face between his hands and lifted her face up. What she saw in his eyes was deep sadness. But also concern, warmth, and affection. Passion and devotion. She wasn't sure what she saw, just that his grey eyes were filled with gentleness. So, so caring. They were like warm summer clouds, so soft you could almost touch them with your hand, feel the pleasant rain that would fall down and cover the scenery like a silky, smooth blanket.

"To me," he whispered. "You have always been the beautiful, gorgeous woman that I fell in love with years and years ago. Doesn't matter what happened or what will happen. All you need to do is hold onto me like you are doing now. And I will never leave your side."

He wrapped his arms around her small frame and pressed her tight against his body. Everything he ever wanted was right here. As long as this woman was by his side, he would be willing to face anything. Trolls, bandits, dragons...didn't matter what the world threw at him. He would fight every struggle for both of them.

"My mother was right," she finally sighed. "You were waiting for me."

"I was waiting for you," Vilkas admitted and a smile crept on his face. "But I didn't know you were already running towards me. If you hadn't been so courageous, I might have missed you. And not been able to catch you."

"Don't worry," she laughed. "I won't run that fast ever again. And I'll make sure that we both stay on the same path from now on."


	37. Chapter 37

**This chapter contains adult content. 18+**

* * *

**37.**

They talked through the night. About everything and anything. They talked about things they always wanted to say but never had the chance. They talked about their past and about their future. And whatever it would hold, they both agreed they would face it together. That night it was enough for them to be close to each other. To know that they were both there, at that moment, sitting in front of the same fire and looking up at the same stars.

Sura shared her concerns about the dragons and the path her brother would have to walk through. She revealed everything to Vilkas, how J'Ziir only wanted revenge for the murder of their family. And how he would not let go of that revenge, even though he was the Dragonborn, the savior of Skyrim. Vilkas didn't say anything, he listened. At that moment he knew Sura didn't ask more of him. He understood that this was the first time she was able to tell these things to anyone. He doubted even Lydia knew all of it, no matter how good friends they were. He could sense her worry for her brother and her almost desperate need to help him. Help him to fight the dragons or to get his revenge, he wasn't exactly sure which she meant. But the idea of her, his small and delicate little woman in front of a fire-breathing scaly monster turned his stomach into painful knots. An uneasy, fearful feelings rose in him. A real concern for someone he loved. True, she was stronger now, but facing a dragon...he wasn't sure anyone could do that alone.

But what caused even more pain was her tale of Mistwatch. At first, he didn't want to hear it and when she began to talk about it, he wanted to spare her from reliving it once again. But eventually, her quiet words made him understand that no amount of comfort, love or care would ever erase that memory for her. She once told him that she wouldn't be able to forget anything. Her brain didn't allow her to forget. And this memory was no different. It was there and it remained there whether he wanted it or not. He listened although he didn't want to. His anger and rage still burned like scorching embers of the fire. As her story progressed he closed his eyes and breathed deeply to contain his rising fury. He knew his eyes were burning like molten lava, his beast was trying to claw its way out of his body. But years of training and control once again gave him the ability to keep it leashed.

She grew quiet when she saw his reaction. She didn't want to hurt him but she wanted him to know everything. And Mistwatch was part of her. She wanted to be whole for him and not just gather the good pieces from here and there. She clearly saw his beast now, a massive shadow behind him. How the flames painted the creature into the rock where he was leaning. Gaping jaws, massive claws, tangled, messy fur. She reached out her hand and touched it, caressed it and soothed it. The shadow flinched like it felt her hand. Vilkas winced, opened his eyes and looked at her. She was humming a song he never heard. But it calmed him down and he felt how his cursed creature settled down.

"It's an old lullaby," Sura explained. "My mother used to sing it to us. To me, to J'Ziir and...to..to...Bry…"

A strange look filled her eyes. Like she was trying hard to remember, trying to piece the puzzle together but it seemed there was one important part missing. She wasn't quite sure how to take it. She regained most of her memories, but one door remained tightly closed. She didn't understand why but accepted it. It would open when the time was right. When she needed that memory, it would come to her.

Vilkas glanced at the sky. Dawn was still a few hours away but he could see the stars slowly fading. He wasn't tired especially now that his beast was riled up just a few moments ago. It would take hours to calm it down. But he did want Sura to get some sleep. He wasn't sure what the coming days would hold for them. But whatever it was, he wanted her to be as strong as she could. And that would require rest and food.

"You better get some sleep," he said to her. "I'll keep watch."

"You're not tired, I assume," Sura smiled to the shadow that was still hovering over the rock.

"Since you know what I am," Vilkas said. "You also deserve to know what it means to own the beast blood. It doesn't allow you to sleep much. If you saw what I am when I change...maybe you wouldn't be so eager to be with me."

"If you love me despite Mistwatch," Sura said. "I love you and your beast."

Vilkas didn't know what to say, he wasn't used to saying " _I love you_ ". He wanted to but the words didn't come easily. She smiled, kissed his nose, stood up and walked to the bedrolls. She lay down and curled up in a small ball and soon only her sparkling eyes were visible. They looked at him through the fire and the smoke. Looked and searched. He wasn't sure what she was thinking, in the months that past she became a mystery to him. Not a stranger, because he felt like he knew her. But there was now so much more of her, this whole new person he wanted to unwrap and discover.

"Vilkas," she whispered. "I'm cold."

"How can you be?" he mumbled, stood up, walked up to her and covered her with the second sleeping bag. "Want me to add more wood to the fire?"

"No," she giggled, her small hand appeared under the covers and grabbed his wrist. "I want you to join me."

"J-join you?" he stuttered. "I...I'm not sure...what you mean...by joining...you..."

"Isn't it obvious enough?" she teased him. "Here...under the covers."

"But I'm not tired," he tried to back away but her hold on his hand was surprisingly strong. "Or…co..cold."

"Who said anything about sleeping?" Sura murmured.

He swallowed. He hadn't expected nor planned anything like this. In a blink of an eye, the image of Sura's brother flashed into his mind. Going toe-to-toe with the muscular and easily aggravated male Khajiit wasn't his idea of fun. He wasn't sure what kind of brother he wanted to be to her, but protective was the word that came to his mind first. Protect her from anything. Unlike in the past. And now he took that much more seriously than ever. If he were to touch her, J'Ziir had more than one reason to see him as his enemy. From a fight like that, he wasn't sure who would come up as a winner. Maybe neither.

Two battles raged on in his head in those few seconds before he made his choice. The battle for love and the battle for honor. Being honorable meant that he would back away, talk with her brother and they would find common ground. Have him accept this relationship. But he was a man who loved this woman for years. His feelings for her, his need to feel her close to him quickly brushed aside his honorable intentions. He stood up and began to remove his armor. When Sura looked up at him, he suddenly felt the need to reassure her, explain his actions and let her know he wouldn't do anything to hurt her.

"I'm taking this off because it's made of steel," he hesitated. "It's cold...and if I join you...there...wearing this..."

"I didn't ask anything," Sura smiled and the look she gave him was filled with trust and faith.

"Are you sure?" Vilkas asked him.

His armor now lay in the ground and he was wearing a long-sleeved, dark shirt and breeches that covered his legs. He always wore them under his armor. The shirt separated the metallic chest plate from his skin and soaked up his sweat and the breeches kept his feet warm and covered the parts that were not protected by the boots or the overall cuirass.

"Come here," she said and held out her hand. He took it and she guided him behind her. As he laid by her side he felt warm, cozy and comfortable. Her small frame was tightly pressed against his chest and he felt her back, her buttocks and her legs against the rest of his body. He wrapped the blanket around her but wasn't sure where he would lay his hands.

"Still cold?" he asked her a few minutes later.

"Little," she nodded. "Because your hands aren't where they are supposed to be."

"And where is that?" he asked.

"Here," she took his arms and wrapped them around herself. "Much better."

As they lay there embracing each other he couldn't help but smile. Never in his wildest dreams could he have predicted this. To be here, together with her. With the woman, his heart yearned for. He closed his eyes but opened them soon again. He wasn't tired but he didn't want to let a single second slip by. As he observed her he once again noticed the curious dark spiral that left from her other year and disappeared somewhere inside her shirt. Her hair had grown but the spiral remained.

"What are you thinking?" Sura suddenly asked. "I know you're not sleeping."

"I'm not, but I thought you were," Vilkas answered. "Can't sleep?"

"I don't want to," Sura said. "Now that you are here. I feel like I've slept enough in the past few weeks."

"You should try," he reluctantly said to her.  _"Don't sleep!"_  his heart cried out.  _"Don't leave me alone now, even for a one moment."_

"Should I?" she asked innocently and pressed herself against him more tightly. He inhaled sharply, pulled her closer to him and rubbed his face against her hair. Her scent, that wonderful smell of lavender and tundra cotton filled his senses.

"That would be wise," he swallowed.

"Guess I'm not that smart then," she smiled and enjoyed his warmth.

"I've been wondering," he continued a few minutes later. "For the longest time now...since you are not going to sleep...maybe I can ask this..?"

"Ask what you want," Sura said. "I'll do my best to answer."

"That spiral on your ear", Vilkas touched it with his lips. His gentle brush tickled her and she had to draw her ear back. He chuckled and she felt his laughter shake his body and rumble in his chest.

"What about it?" she sighed.

"Where does it end?"

She didn't answer. She'd been brave enough to tell him about her feelings and to invite him beside her into this intimate embrace. But she wasn't sure was she ready for the next step. True, nothing in his gentle touch reminded her about the Orc. And wasn't the best way to get rid of those awful memories by creating some new memories, beautiful memories, with the man she loved. But would he agree or was it just too early for all that?

Thinking about all the years that had passed, the years when they just watched each other from afar, and when they didn't have the courage to talk about their feelings when they didn't have the courage to face it. Even if both of them wore the amulet of Mara around their necks during all those years nothing would have changed. All that time, wasted. And the future was unknown. Tomorrow might be too late.

"Why don't you find out?" she finally whispered.

He was silent for a long time. They were both wondering were they ready for this. Sura was sure he wouldn't touch her, because...maybe...deep down inside he did think that she was... _(damaged goods!)_  Then he surprised her and she felt his finger touch her ear, very gently and lightly. He followed the pattern from her ear down to the back of her neck. He was almost enjoying this slow journey of discovering more of her until his finger stopped at the edge of her tunic.

"Well?" Sura asked. "Not going any further?"

"Your...cl..clothes are in the way," he answered.

He tried his best to sound neutral and not make her do something she didn't want to. She was the one who decided the pace. If she didn't want to reveal any more, he wouldn't force her. But once again her trust in him, her utmost confidence in him, that he would be respectful and considerate, was stronger than her fear and anxiety. Before Vilkas could stop her, and he wasn't even sure did he want to, she wriggled out of her tunic and tossed it outside of the sleeping bag. She tried her best to calm her beating heart and as she once again buried herself inside the covers, she felt his breath on her naked skin. Heard his heart beating as fast as hers. And it calmed her to know that this was new to him as well.

The fur on her back was much thinner and he could feel her warm skin right beneath it. Her muscles, her toned, slender upper body. He didn't see it, but he could feel it. As she wriggled closer he had to move away. He didn't want to scare her. The obvious bulge in his pants grew bigger and his breeches felt suddenly very uncomfortable. And like with anger, rage, and hate, lust was also one of the feelings that awoke his beast. It began slowly, clanking the iron bars of his human will. Testing him. Seeing was he awake and aware. But his will was made of iron and he wouldn't allow his wolf to interfere. He pushed it away, locked it inside his inner basement and shut the steel door tightly. He heard how it howled and roared, denied of its freedom, denied of its carnal lust. Except this wasn't lust. This was love. And his deformed creature of destruction had nothing to do with love.

He returned to the task at hand and found the spot where his finger stopped. It was on the sensual curve where Sura's neck changed into a shoulder and as he followed the pattern he realized that it took his fingers from the back to the front. His hand crossed her shoulder and glided towards her chest and he managed to stop himself moments before his fingers touched her breast band. In his hazy mind, he noticed that her chest was almost completely hairless.

"Hmm...still...much lower from here?" Vilkas muttered and closed his eyes, hoping that she would deny it and praying that she wouldn't.

"Much lower," she whispered instead. "But you can't see it if I'm like this. Do you want me to turn around?"

"No," he shook his head. "Just stay like that. We can stop now."

"Here," she took his hand and pressed it against her breasts. "I can guide you the rest of the way."

His eyes were suddenly at the tip of his fingers. In the darkness, beneath the covers, she took him to an uncharted territory, to a place he had never been but wanted to go, see and explore. He felt her skin, smooth and hairless. There were few scars he could feel and he caressed them lovingly, hoping they wouldn't cause her any pain. His hand was like a wildfire, spreading through her body, wanting to consume and swallow her. She arched her back as his hand moved lower and she wasn't sure what she wanted from him, where exactly she wanted him to touch. She only hoped he wouldn't stop touching.

As his fingers reached the edge of her pants, she turned to her back and could only see the stars, shining brightly up in the sky. His eyes, grey, intense and caring were among them, looking back down on her and all she saw in them was love and affection. When his hand slid underneath the fabric she arched her back and encouraged him to touch her deeper. There was no shame at that moment, no humiliation or guilt. His touch was gentle and light and as he parted her folds and caressed the most private parts of her body she let out a single sigh that changed into a cry of pleasure.

He kept his own wild desire in check. He only wanted her to feel this connection between them, this bond that only they could have. These waves of pleasure that only he could give to her. He pressed his face against her neck and felt her pulse fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. Her claws dug into his flesh but he barely noticed. As his fingers searched deeper and slowly conquered her wetness, she pushed his face lower and his lips explored her upper body. He used his teeth to move the annoying fabric away and his warm mouth circled the hard top of her soft breast. As he nibbled and teased her with his lips and with his tongue, as his warm mouth sucked her gently, her body began to shiver and she pressed his face closer, hoping they could be like this forever.

The fire burned bright and hard, she didn't know where to touch or what to say anymore. She could hardly breathe. She felt his fingers deep inside her, caressing a strange place, gently stretching her and finding the spots that made her moan. Her body began to convulse and shake. His mouth on her breasts added the pleasure as he moved his hand so that his thumb found the perfect place, the small bundle or nerve endings right between her thighs. She gasped for air, threw her hands on top of her head and grabbed the creep clusters that were barely surviving in this harsh environment. She ripped them off the ground, tried to get away from his burning hand and mouth and at the same time she wanted much more, to be closer. This was not all, she knew it somewhere in her hazy mind. There was more, had to be, but at that moment, when her body swayed at the rhythm of his hand, she couldn't think of anything else. Her mind and her heart were filled with him.

He encouraged her and watched her as she reached her peak. He felt her body shake, how she squeezed his fingers like wet silky, hot velvet and slowly he took her to the very end. He had never seen anything so beautiful in his whole life. A thin layer of sweat covered her body. Her eyes were burning, her ears were drawn back. Suddenly she unconsciously summoned a spell that first covered them both with ice cold mist and fog. A few seconds later, when she cried her immense pleasure out in the night sky, a sharp ice spike whistled past his ear and crashed into a nearby tree. He got goosebumps all over his body and his arousal screamed for attention but he pushed it aside. This moment was for her. To show her what it could be like between them. She was gasping for air and trying to laugh at the same time.

"I'm sorry," she stuttered when she was able to speak again. "I didn't mean to..."

"No harm done," Vilkas smiled and wrapped his arms around her. "I'm still alive."

"I am too," she nestled herself against his warm body. "For the first time, I feel like I'm truly alive."

As she finally dozed off he watched over her. And promised to himself that he wouldn't allow this beautiful, energetic woman to disappear. Not into her own nightmares, because he knew she still had them. Not into the chaos of this world, because nothing was right in this land. And not into the feelings of desperation and inadequacy, because she was still harboring such emotions. He wanted to fill her life with love, laughter, and joy. The road was long and difficult but he had confidence in himself and in her. He would carry her through difficult times and he would never let her go. And he couldn't help but smile when he realized that he still didn't know where that damn spiral ended.


	38. Chapter 38

**38.**

They reached Windhelm in the afternoon. The weather changed, the sky was grey and unrelenting and the wind blew snow and icy drizzle around the scenery. The high stone walls of the city looked uninviting and almost hostile. Sura was sitting on the saddle in front of Vilkas. He was holding the bridles with one hand and his other hand was wrapped around her waist. They stood there and watched the city that was shrouded in coldness.

"So, who's waiting for you?" he asked her.

"Not here," she responded. "Not in Windhelm."

She didn't explain further because she couldn't. The strong feeling of someone or something waiting...it was still there. It lingered around her and but she couldn't clarify how she knew it and why.

"Do we need to stop here?" Vilkas asked and calmed Abaccus, who was more than ready to move on.

"No, I don't think so," Sura shook her head. "We can head towards Riften."

"It's strange," Vilkas said. "Why you wanted us to come this way..."

"We will know in time," Sura assured him. "I'm sure of it."

He remained quiet, nodded and urged Abaccus to move forward. They passed the stables and turned south. Sura glanced back as they moved on. The city behind them caused cold shivers to run down her spine. She wasn't sure why but a part of her was sure that something terrible was about to happen there. Suddenly a quick flash - like lighting - came to her. A vision of a dead woman, covered in blood. Laying on the stone floor while someone very close by shouted her name, over and over again, desperately. The image vanished as quickly as it came and she couldn't see who the woman was.

Vilkas noticed her absent eyes and realized that something wasn't right. He pulled the bridle and Abaccus slowed down. He touched Sura's forehead. She flinched it was like an electric current shot through her body when his hand brushed her face.

"What's wrong?" he asked, clearly concerned.

"Nothing," she smiled at him but that strange look in her eyes didn't disappear.

"You sure?" he persisted.

He knew her better than she realized. That obscure stare into the distance wasn't familiar to him. It wasn't like her. Sometimes it seemed like she left this world behind and traveled to a different place and time where Skyrim and its entire people didn't belong to. Where he didn't belong. He knew he wouldn't be able to follow her to those different places and he would have like to keep her right here, by his side. Here, where he could see and touch her. Where he could protect her. He understood that her father was something of a mage, maybe even more skilled than those in the College of Winterhold. Was it his dead presence that caused her to fade in and out of reality like this? His tremendous powers that reached out to her, even after years of his death.

"Yes, I'm fine," she nodded and jumped off the horse. "I'll walk for a moment..."

That dead woman, she thought.  _I know her!_ How do I know her? From where? And how I can prevent her death? Can I? Am I meant to? For what? Hundreds of questions circled in her head and she dug deep down in her memories to find answers.  _Why, father?_  She cried out in her mind.  _Why are you sending me these images?_  Without a doubt it was her father's doing. His cryptic way of telling what she needed to know or do. But a single glimpse of something that might or might not happen in the future didn't tell her anything. It just caused distress and uncertainty because she didn't know what to do with it and where to place it. She heard Abaccus's and Vilkas's footsteps behind her, he stepped down from his horse. She turned to him and he stopped at his tracks. His eyes were filled with questions. She knew he wanted to ask what was going on and of course, he had the right to know. She was about to say something, explain her weird behavior. Tell him about the vision she saw. She didn't want secrets between them. To keep him in the dark now would only make it more difficult in the future. She took a deep breath and began to explain when a panicked woman rushed by them and yelled something about dragons. They both turned to look after her but a massive roar from the top of the nearby mountain caught their attention. Even Abaccus who usually was brave and courageous took a few alarmed steps backward.

"A..dragon?" Sura murmured. She hadn't seen one of those since that day in Whiterun when J'Ziir killed the beast by the watchtowers.

"This is not good," Vilkas said and in a second he turned into a warrior. He pulled out his sword and his eyes turned cold and calculating when he looked towards the small village of Kynesgrove. "Stay back."

"A dragon!" Sura suddenly understood.

She didn't listen to him nor head him shout her name as she sprinted forward. She passed the Inn and glanced upwards. The snow almost blinded her but she ran forward and faintly heard his voice, shouting, almost begging her to stop. At that moment he was the last thing on her mind. Staying back like he wanted her to was not an option. As soon as the dragon roared she knew the reason they came this way. Her brother was somewhere up there, fighting that monster. And the fear, the deep fear for his safety cut through her soul and drove her forward. Never again, she repeated. I will not lose him, never again!

The wind was fierce, the snow whirled and stung her eyes as she ran up the hill. Her breathing became erratic, something was boiling inside her. She didn't even notice her hands flaming, her eyes turning into solid gold. She heard loud noises, screaming, roaring and shouting. Words she didn't understand, but the effects reverberated deep within her. A black lizard, the same one she and Lydia had seen that day, long ago -  _how long had it been?_  - glided over her. She turned towards it but the creature disappeared into the thick blizzard. When she stood there following the beast that faded out of the view, Vilkas caught up with her and grabbed her hand. He cursed out loud and was forced to let go. She was like flaming atronach, completely engulfed by fire. Her blue eyes turned into hot orange and he could feel the intense heat burning within her. He was not used to seeing magic and he usually detested mages, but this was his Sura. Whatever she was he would accept it. But even so, this boiling hot rage of hers was ungodly. Something powerful emerged from her. And as they heard the screams of pain and agony from somewhere in front of them neither of them cared for their own safety.

They rushed forward. The first thing Sura saw was Lydia, laying on the ground, unmoving. She was about to run to her when she spotted her brother, swiftly dodging the sharp jaws of the creature he was fighting. She knew almost immediately that he was in trouble. A blond woman was battling beside him and she screamed when one of the massive talons hit her. J'Ziir removed his eyes from his target for a split second. That was a mistake. Within seconds he found himself trapped in the sharp jaws of the beast, feeling its pointed teeth puncturing his armor and diving deep into his torso.

Sura didn't hesitate. She released a powerful spell, not calling it to her but feeling it, the power surging through her body. Everything in her was engulfed by flames and as the inferno left her hands and hit its target, the huge lizard roared in pain. That brief moment was enough; J'Ziir slipped out and rolled away. The dragon turned around and searched for its new foe with its eyes and Sura froze into place. As courageous as she was at that moment she could only stare at the massive creature in front of her.

Vilkas pulled her aside only moments before its talons grabbed her. He pushed her behind a huge boulder. She was wheezing and her whole body was shaking. When he heard the massive beast approaching, there was nothing he could do to calm her down. He stepped forward, ready to defend her with his own life. As she called out to him, faintly and weakly, he almost turned back. Almost. They would both die right now and here if he hesitated.

Out of the blinding snowstorm, he heard hurried steps and faster than the eye could see the black Khajiit jumped on top of the dragon. He was wielding both of his sharp axes, his fur was on fire in many places but he didn't notice his pain. With few well-placed hits, he maimed its neck, its legs, and its hide. Vilkas was able to draw the creature's attention long enough so that J'Ziir could deliver the killing blow. They didn't have a chance to talk to each other but they were both warriors. They didn't need to exchange words. Despite their mutual efforts, the dragon turned out to be resilient and strong. Neither of them knew how long it took, but when the massive beast finally fell to the ground, they were both covered in blood and sweat. Vilkas bent down, trying to catch his breath and leaning on his sword, not really believing they managed to bring down a dragon. His blood was filled with adrenalin but he felt the blows he had suffered. They would start hurting more later on.

He was barely able to catch his breath when the creature began to disintegrate in front of his eyes. He blinked, once and twice, only to see glowing, sparkling strands wriggling out its body. He lifted his sword and wondered how he was going to defend himself against such magic. From the corner of his eye, he noticed J'Ziir grabbing his own head, trying to fight whatever power was taking over him. His body arched in pain, his claws dug deep into the ground, it seemed he wanted to scream but couldn't. He was barely able to breathe as the glowing strands embraced and melted into him. It only took seconds for the dragon to disappear, leaving a pile of white bones and a huge skeleton behind. Suddenly Vilkas understood what he witnessed. He saw it before, when this same man took down another dragon, in the grassy fields of Whiterun. As the glow around J'Ziir faded he was finally able to stand up.

It seemed that he was used to it. He didn't seem to be dying although he was still swaying back and forth like a drunkard. He managed to find a bottle of ale and poured it all down his throat. Vilkas turned around and searched for Sura. She was still crouching behind the boulder, hugging her legs and staring into the distance. Her eyes that only a moment ago were burning with fire and flames were now pale, empty pieces of the winter sky. Vilkas hobbled to him, his left leg was starting to swell and he felt blood oozing down. Despite his pain, he sheathed his sword and kneeled in front of her. Gently he touched her, caressed her cheek and called her name. Slowly, very slowly she began to come back.

"Is..is it dead?" she murmured.

"It's dead," he assured her and lifted her up. He wrapped his arms around her and clearly felt the intense stare of the Dragonborn at the back of his head. If looks could kill, he would already be dead.

"J'Ziir?" Sura slowly pushed him away and searched around.

"He's alive," Vilkas calmed her down.

"And you?" she looked at him and noticed the bruises and the burns and the long, bloody wound on his leg.

He tried to assure her that he was fine, but she refused to listen. In a way he understood her. After all this, she had to find something stable and familiar. Something she could concentrate on. She forced him to sit down and began to heal his body using strongest restoration spells she knew. It didn't take long before the cuts and lacerations began to heal and he felt much better. He shunned magic but was starting to understand that it had its uses. Sura smiled at him, stood up and faced her brother's intense gaze. He opened his mouth, probably wanted to say something, maybe even shout at her, but then Lydia's motionless body caught her attention and she ran past him, leaving him standing there filled with angry, unsaid words. This was the first time someone ignored him like this. And he wasn't used to being ignored.

Sura was relieved to find that Lydia hadn't suffered any serious injuries. It turned out that the dragon swung its enormous tail and the unfortunate housecarl was right in its path. The hit flung her halfway across the field and she landed head first into the hard bedrock. Sura lifted her gently, poured some healing potion down her throat and she came to, a little delirious and bewildered, but mostly unharmed. While she tended to her friend, the two men were watching each other. They kept their distance but the air between them was cold and filled with sparks. Vilkas wasn't sure what he saw in J'Ziir's face. He was a Khajiit and reading him and emotions was difficult. One thing he was sure of. He wasn't pleased that his sister suddenly appeared. His tail swung back and forth, back and forth, like an angry, irritated snake and his ears were still drawn back. One wrong move and this saber-tooth cat would be at his throat. He held back his grin because despite all this the situation was incredibly amusing. Here they were, on top of some distant mountain and they just killed a dragon together. They worked as a team, knowing exactly what the other one was doing. They had in fact saved each other's lives. But as soon as the beast was down, they became mortal enemies. J'Ziir's fur was smoldering but he didn't seem to care. His eyes were fixated on him. He barely even noticed his housecarl as Sura helped her up.

"So, you really are the Dragonborn," a blond woman suddenly walked up to them and stood in front of J'Ziir. Her voice broke his intense stare and he moved his not so gentle gaze towards her. Because of this woman he was here now. "I guess I owe you an explanation. Go ahead, ask whatever you want. No more secrets."

"I have nothing to ask," J'Ziir said. "I did what you demanded. That's enough."

"We need to find out who's behind these dragon attacks," she began.

"No, we don't," J'Ziir grunted. "If you want to find out, go by yourself. There's something else I need to do," he turned to look at Sura and as their eyes met, they both sensed the words hanging in the air between them.

J'Ziir didn't care for the blond woman as she went on and on about the Thalmor and the elves and their possible connection to the dragons. He wasn't interested. She wasn't even finished when he completely ignored her, turned around and walked to Sura and Lydia. Delphine grew quiet and wasn't sure what this all meant. She was under the impression that the Dragonborn wanted what she wanted. To kill the dragons. Nothing should be more important than that. But she was willing to wait, for now.

With a quick glance, J'Ziir was assured that his housecarl was alright, if a little out of breath. Then he grabbed Sura's hand and yanked her aside. Lydia exhaled deeply and leaned against a big rock. She was still feeling the effects of the blow. And the fact that she hadn't slept that well in the past few nights didn't exactly help. Her life turned into a complete mess and she didn't know how to fix things.

"Why are you here?" J'Ziir asked his sister.

"I want to see our home," she said. "What's left of it, at least."

"Well, it's not here!" he noted. "And there's nothing left."

"You've been there?" she lifted her eyes to him.

"No," he shook his head. "Nor do I want to. There's nothing left," he repeated.

"There has to be something," she insisted. "I'm going. And if you don't want to come along, that's fine."

"What do you hope to find?" J'Ziir rolled his eyes. "Remains of an old shack filled with bandits and skeevers. The dusty old bones of our parents?"

"The rest of my memories," she answered calmly. "And a way to my future," she looked at Vilkas. J'Ziir followed her gaze and was barely able to hold in a frustrated groan.

"I need to have a talk with him," he murmured.

"No, you don't," Sura said and her voice reminded him so much of their mother that he flinched. "Yes, Vilkas and I are together now."

"I don't like it," he rumbled.

"And I don't care," she smiled.

His eyes flashed but her gaze was filled with amusement. To be able to talk to him like this and feel very safe and happy made her glad. J'Ziir glanced at her and his expression grew sour. But to his surprise her giddiness caused his anger to melt away almost way too fast and he had to remind himself that he didn't accept this situation in any way. But he was completely taken off guard when she spontaneously wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly.

"I'm glad you're alright," she whispered.

"Of course I am," he tried to push her away, but she clung to him like a small, tiny kitten. He remembered that as a child she enjoyed bouncing onto his back and as he tried to shake her off, she giggled and shrieked in laughter. He felt embarrassed and ambushed, but there was a sudden sparkle of joy in his heart as well. "I'm the Dragonborn, remember."

"I know," Sura giggled, let him go and looked up at him. "So tell me, mighty hero of Skyrim. Where does your path lead you next?"

He remained silent for a moment. His eyes moved to Lydia, to Vilkas and to Delphine, who was still waiting patiently. She wanted him to follow her plans but she and her agendas meant nothing to him. In her eyes, he was the Dragonborn and that sealed his fate. But now there was something more important to him that than a few dragons, the Thalmor and the destiny of the Dragonborn. His sister, the girl with sparkling blue eyes. He looked at Vilkas and knew the Nord wanted nothing more but to keep Raji safe. That was probably why he accompanied her.

And then - there was Lydia. When his eyes reached his housecarl, shivers ran down his spine. He didn't know why and soon enough he found himself standing in front of another locked door. This time the door had a name. " _Lydia"._  Big, burning letters. He knew only bad things hid behind that door and that's why he refused to open it. That's why he did his best to ignore it. Ever since they left Whiterun things changed between them. Lydia wasn't that talkative but she asked him things that made him uncomfortable. He didn't have a clue what she was talking about when she mentioned " _that night_ ". He remembered crawling out of the spider den but after that...everything was covered in fuzzy haze. He didn't have any idea how he managed to get back to Whiterun.

"We'll go to Riften together," J'Ziir replied while his eyes still lingered on Lydia.

Sura noticed but didn't ask. She knew about her feelings, they had been obvious to her for quite a while now. But she was having a difficult time understanding her brother. J'Ziir sighed and walked back to Delphine who immediately continued on and on about the Thalmor. Sura heard them exchange harsh words and she walked to Lydia and smiled at her. Lydia tried to smile back but all she saw in her face was unhappiness and her eyes trailing behind her Thane were filled with uncertainty.

A few hours later J'Ziir and Delphine reached some sort of understanding. She wasn't happy with his decision and couldn't believe this was the Dragonborn she was meant to protect and serve. He contradicted her in every turn, questioned her every word, ignored her every suggestion. She announced she would leave for Solitude, she wanted to find out if the elves were behind the dragons. J'Ziir waved her off and turned his back. To him, it didn't matter. Delphine frowned, shook her head and left with a grumpy look on her face. When she was gone, they gathered their gear and left Kynesgrove later that afternoon. Vilkas and Lydia walked up ahead and J'Ziir held Sura back. He rummaged through his knapsack and gave her an old book. She took it and looked at him.

"It's father's journal," he explained. "I've read all I can. The rest is for you."

She held the book in her hands and wondered what was inside. She wasn't sure would she be able to understand. Too much happened in the past few weeks. She was feeling overwhelmed but grateful at the same time. But opening these doors too fast would be like breaking an old dam. If she wasn't careful, she would drown. She caressed the old leather cover.

_When the time is right,_ she thought.  _When the time is right._


	39. Chapter 39

**39.**

All Sura could do was read. A whole new world opened to her. Another door. And another. And another after that. They all swung open with loud bangs and she finally understood a small bit of what happened and why. Big parts of the story were still missing but gaining so much knowledge from her father made her question her entire childhood. The vivid memories she had were somehow different now. She tried to imagine her father, the kind, and caring, fun-loving, spontaneous man as one of the most talented wizards in all of Tamriel. In his journal, he didn't deny his powers. But he wasn't proud of many of the things he did. He told where he got his knowledge and how he obtained some of the rarest spells in existence. When he mentioned the Daedric Princes, the realm of Hermaeus Mora, Sura slammed the book shut.

Vilkas looked up. When she began to read the old, tattered journal, he decided to let her be. Clearly, it was important to her so he didn't wish to disturb her. They were sitting near the campfire they made just an hour ago. Riften was close but as the darkness set around them, Vilkas managed to persuade J'Ziir and Lydia to set up camp for the night. They found a suitable place, not too far from the road near a small stream that led deeper into the forest. The Dragonborn and his housecarl weren't around. But Vilkas could hear their voices some distance away and he assumed they were talking, almost arguing. If bandits were about, it wouldn't be difficult to locate them. He had an inkling that J'Ziir almost wished for bandits to attack. To get away from Lydia. All afternoon he and Sura both sensed the awkward atmosphere between the two of them. The Dragonborn was unbreakable, but Lydia was persistent. She wasn't an easy woman and Vilkas was glad it wasn't him who she was yelling now.

"It can't be," Sura murmured and stared at the flames. "Not...no..."

"Something wrong?" Vilkas asked.

"Where's J'Ziir? Did you see him leave?" Sura looked around. "I need to talk to him."

"Right over there," Vilkas pointed towards the stream. "You are not the only one who wants to have few words with him"

When he mentioned that, Sura also heard the voices. She stood up and hesitated. Maybe she should let them talk. But too many things in her father's journal bothered her and she couldn't wait. Vilkas didn't try to stop her as she left but he sighed and added some more wood to the fire. It seemed it was going to be a long night. And he kind of hoped that Lydia wouldn't come back to the camp by herself. He could handle bandits, frost trolls, and cave bears, they were nothing. But an angry woman disappointed in love. He had no idea how to handle that.

Lydia was indeed livid. For days she had lived with this uncertainty. She wasn't sure what to believe. She gave hints to J'Ziir, and when hints did nothing, she began to imply to the night they spent together. And when he just looked at her eyes filled with confusion and repulsion Lydia lost her patience.

"What?" she rolled her eyes. "Are you serious?"

"About what?" he asked calmly.

"That you don't remember?" Lydia glared. "You expect me to believe that? With your brain? With that brilliant brain of a hero? A brain that never lets you forget anything?"

"Have I forgotten something?" J'Ziir cocked on his eyebrows.

"Have you?" Lydia huffed. "The night in Whiterun! You don't want to acknowledge it, do you? You don't want to admit that we slept together, do you?"

J'Ziir stared at her. He blinked. And stared. His face grew pale and he took a step back. He shook his head and took another step back. Lydia wasn't fooled by him. His reaction wasn't genuine. He was pretending. She had seen most of his tricks. How he fooled people, how he calculated and lied if necessary. To know that he was embarrassed, that he was ashamed of her, made her incredibly angry. It also hurt, really bad. It was more torturous than any arrow or a sword that pierced her body. Because this pain came from inside and she could not remove its source. She couldn't rip her own heart out.

"Slept together…you mean, side by side?" J'Ziir asked like he suddenly was a toddler, a five-year-old who didn't understand why his parents shared the same bed.

"No!" Lydia grabbed his collar. "We. Made. Love. Had sex. Mated. Copulated! Whatever you want to call it! You and me! Together! In the same bed!"

"No," he muttered. "That's not true. I never..."

"You!" Lydia cried out. "How dare you? You can insult me, you can call me a slave or a burden or whatever...but this...to use me and then just throw me away, hurt me like this...to put me in the same group with those other trashy women you spend your nights with!"

J'Ziir remained silent. He had no idea what to say. Lydia claimed that they spend a night together, made love, as she so bluntly put it. But he had no recollection of it. And he knew for sure that if it happened if he had the chance to touch Lydia, let alone sleep with her, he would remember it for the rest of his life. This woman in front of him was annoying, irritating, bothersome and a constant source of problems for him. But all the same, at one point, he didn't know how or when or why she became desirable and enticing. That he had her and didn't remember. That wasn't possible.

_He would never be able to forget that._

That much he admitted to himself. But she didn't need to know. And wild horses wouldn't have dragged it out of him. And so to cover up his uncertainty and his sudden lust for her, which bothered him day and night, every waking hour of his life, he feigned arrogance and decided that it was better if she was angry. It would be easier for both of them if she hated him. Loving him would only cause more pain for her.

"Maybe it wasn't memorable enough," he said and looked dead into her eyes. Then his gaze traveled from her face down her body and back again and she had never felt herself so worthless before.

Lydia couldn't speak. She was literally speechless. Never had she met a man like him before! Why did I think he would change? she thought to herself. What did I hope for? she wondered. A miracle. Apparently so!

"So, who was the best?" she swallowed. "Yosolda? Or maybe Carlotta? Or someone else from your countless travels when I wasn't with you?"

"What does it matter?" he crossed his arms.

"It matters to me," she held back her tears. She would never give him the satisfaction. He didn't need to know how many times she cried over him. Out of fear, out of disappointment, out of jealousy. But now the tears that packed behind her eyes were tears of rage.

"I don't know," J'Ziir said with a cool voice. "They were all pretty good. Maybe your skills just weren't that...impressive. That means you need to practice more. Instead of trying to seduce me, maybe you should concentrate on that instead. So you can actually protect me like a proper housecarl should."

Lydia's heart grew cold. It was encased in solid ice. The pain subsided and for the first time, she wondered what was she doing here. She turned around and walked away. When she passed Sura she didn't even look at her. Sura stopped to her tracks, glanced at J'Ziir and then looked back. She only saw Lydia's back and soon enough it disappeared behind the trees. Sura could sense the tense atmosphere. She wanted to help but didn't really know how. But first, she needed to talk about their father.

"Are you alright?" she managed to ask him before jumping right into the subject at hand.

"Fine," he shrugged but his eyes followed the curve of the small stream, traced the path and searched the trees. He resisted the urge to run after Lydia, grab her in his arms. And then…what? Get slapped in the face! Punched in the gut! She might even stab him, this time he really went too far.

"We need to talk," Sura pointed at their father's journal. "How much did you read?"

"All that was meant for me," he replied. "A bunch of useless rambling, if you ask me."

"Did you know that our father went to Apocrypha?" Sura asked.

"What's that?" he frowned.

"It's a plane of a Daedric Prince," Sura tried to explain. "In Oblivion. All that knowledge he acquired. From a Daedra! Hermaeus Mora is the Prince of knowledge and memory. What if…what if he tricked it?

"A Daedric Prince?" J'Ziir didn't look surprised. "There must have been a high price for something like that."

"Yes, I think father had some secret knowledge," Sura continued. "Something that the Prince doesn't know. And whatever he doesn't have, he wants it."

"But if he got the information from whatever that place was called..?" J'Ziir waved his hand.

"Apocrypha," Sura said.

"Yes, from there," J'Ziir continued. "Doesn't that mean that this Daedra knows it already?"

"Maybe he promised an exchange," Sura muttered. "The Eye, the spell, The Argonian…"

"The what?" J'Ziir asked. "Argonian?"

"Yes, he mentioned an Argonian," Sura confirmed. "Have you ever heard something like that?"

_"_ _When I met the Argonian, he told me you would have enough strength to see through it all. No…that's wrong. I didn't meet him…he found us. Found you. You are his salvation and he is yours."_

"No," J'Ziir said. "It doesn't matter now."

"Wait," Sura grabbed his arm. "The book…in Whiterun. Belethor said he bought it from an Argonian! I should have taken it with me!"

"What book?" J'Ziir sighed.

"It has something to do with us," Sura began to walk back and forth. "It had the picture of the Eye. The reason you are Dragonborn. How did you become the Dragonborn and why? Your slavery, which didn't break you or kill you...the power within you and what gave that power to you, he must want it. The knowledge behind it. Father knew it but he never gave that information away…this Prince...he might try to get you on his side at some point."

"Let him try," J'Ziir rolled his eyes. "Like I don't have enough problems without some Daedric Princes interfering with my life."

"Lydia?" Sura finally dared to ask.

"She's the least of my problems," J'Ziir lied. "You of all people should know..."

"All I know is that she cares about you," Sura looked at him and her eyes were determined. "And you turn her away, over and over again. What are you going to do if someday you look for her and she's not there?"

"Good riddance," J'Ziir said. "So far she's been nothing but trouble."

"I doubt that," Sura smiled. "I think I'd miss Lydia if she wasn't here."

J'Ziir scoffed. It was annoying to see how easily his sister saw through him. He didn't have enough patience to think about his situation with Lydia so he turned to a more obvious subject.

"You know, your man also worships the Daedra," he mentioned. "Are you really able to love a man-beast?"

"I'm glad you asked," Sura wasn't overwhelmed. "I know what he is and I love him despite it. As I said, I don't need your approval."

"As if I have any saying in your life these days," J'Ziir admitted.

"I don't mean that I want to cut you out," she corrected. "Not your approval, but your acceptance. Think of him as your brother."

"A brother?" he chuckled sarcastically. "The only brother I have was a crazy maniac who showed me the frostbite nest, had red hair and...wait..."

"You remember him too?" Sura grabbed his arm. "I thought he was just a figment of my imagination."

"Where did that come from?" J'Ziir asked.

"What happened to him?" Sura squeezed his hand. "Do you know?"

He shook his dead. How could he remember what happened to him if he wasn't even sure did he exist? Had he existed? But he must have since they both remembered him. Suddenly there were too many closed doors inside his head. Where did these countless doors come from? There was Lydia's door, which he didn't really want to open. But he was so curious, so tempted to peek inside. And then there was another door that lurked somewhere inside his mind but he couldn't find it.

"We better get back to camp," he finally said. "When we arrive at Riften tomorrow, maybe we'll get some answers."

The camp was suspiciously quiet. Vilkas was the only one around. Lydia was gone. So was all of her gear. Her sword, her knapsack, her sleeping bag, everything was gone. And it didn't seem like Vikas tried to stop her from leaving.

"What happened?" Sura asked. "Where's Lydia?"

"Gone," Vilkas glanced at J'Ziir. "She asked me to say that she was heading back to Whiterun. She didn't seem too happy to be here."

"And you didn't try to stop her?" J'Ziir gnarled.

"What was I supposed to do?" Vilkas didn't back down. "Grab her and tie her down?"

"Knock her unconscious! That works too!" J'Ziir growled.

He turned around, walked to his horse and hopped on. He didn't bother with the saddle or with the bridle; he hurried on without thinking much. He didn't understand why he was in such a hurry, but Skyrim wasn't a safe place. He didn't want to see Lydia die. In her foolish state of mind, anything was possible. As the night closed around him and his eyes frantically searched her familiar shape, he hoped he wouldn't find her dead by the side of the road. He would gladly take her bunches and her screams. She could even shoot a couple of arrows into him if she wanted. Screams of rage were better than deadly silence.


	40. Chapter 40

**40.**

Her fury was still boiling right beneath the surface. It hadn't subsided nor settled. It was powered by the grinding jealously that ate her up. All those women, she thought. Was he really telling the truth?  _Yes!_  He was. Why would he lie to her about such things? That made no sense whatsoever. Nothing in her life made sense. Why, oh why did I become his housecarl? And why did I remain by his side when I was free to go?

_"But!"_ A small, nagging voice whispered inside her. If he really doesn't remember. He was bitten and poisoned and even you felt unwell the next day, didn't you? But what poison causes memory loss? There is no such thing!

_"But!"_ That small, nagging voice continued. There are many poisons in this world. And you, my dear, are no expert. You don't know what side effects they have.

A selective memory loss! Please, Lydia scoffed. A memory loss that causes him to forget just that one night and nothing else. No, he doesn't want to remember. Or maybe...maybe it's like he said. Maybe it wasn't memorable enough. Maybe  _she_  wasn't good enough. She practically pushed herself onto him, held on when he was about to pull away. It that wasn't desperate, what was? But he could have pulled away at any moment. He wasn't that weak. And clearly, he was aroused. Was that also caused by the poison? He didn't want to but had no choice. And at that moment, she was the only female around.

So many different voices and theories circled inside her head that she didn't even notice that her horse slowed down. Do you really want to leave? she asked herself. Leave him for good? Can you? The answer came very quickly. She didn't even need to think about it. A clear, definite no. She didn't want to leave. She wanted to be by his side even if he was nasty, unfriendly and filthy, hairy creature with blue eyes and muscles and an amazing body that she yearned to touch and kiss and caress. And even though he didn't remember, or didn't want to, she did. And the memories made her blush.

Maybe I just need to remind him, she smiled innocently. Grab him and kiss him again. Push him against a pine tree and tell him to take me here and now. The vivid images in her head made her laugh out loud. She could almost see it, his horrified and shocked face. But why would he be horrified? she thought. He wasn't horrified last time either. No, he was far from horrified. Now her horse came to a complete stop and began munching some hay.

She was so enticed by the idea of repeating that lustful night that she didn't notice how a silent shadow slipped from the bushes and approached her. He came from the other side of the path, a dark silhouette that blended in its surroundings. He was wearing a black hood, a black armor and in his other hand, he had a small, sharp knife. As he reached her horse, he grabbed the bridle and in a blink of an eye he forced Lydia down and she felt the cold metal against her neck. A soft, velvety voice whispered in her ear.

"Alright, little lady," he cooed. "Hand over all your valuables or this will end in tears."

"If it's gold you are after, you thief," Lydia spat but didn't dare to move. His arms were very strong. "I don't have any."

"Come now," he chuckled and the blade pressed a little harder against her neck. "This doesn't have to end like that, lass."

"Try it and you'll be dead before you know it," a chocked voice behind them said. Lydia recognized it immediately. Considering the situation she was way too happy to see J'Ziir. She almost laughed out loud. The stranger's arm grabbed her tightly and he forced them to turn around. His dagger was still on her throat and she wasn't sure would any of them get out of this situation alive. But J'Ziir was here. He wouldn't let her die.

J'Ziir's eyes were hard and merciless and she saw only cold, calculating anger in them. His bow was arched and one sharp ebony arrow was aimed at the man head. She wasn't sure why he came but she was grateful that he was here. At this point, her anger completely melted away and she only hoped that this stranger wouldn't hurt him. After all, he was far more important to Skyrim than she.

"Well, well," the stranger said with a surprisingly amused voice. "Isn't this interesting? I suggest you lower your bow if you want to see your lady unharmed."

"How about I just kill you right now?" J'Ziir gnarled. "What makes you think she means anything to me?"

"A pretty lass like her," his arm tentatively caressed her cheek and Lydia flinched. That tentative move caused J'Ziir's eyes to narrow. He was so angry he almost couldn't see where he was aiming. But his hand was steady. He knew if he released the arrow now, it would smash the man's head into pieces.

"Let her go," J'Ziir hissed. "Final warning, Nord."

"What do you think, my friend?" he laughed and moved so that Lydia was right between the two men and J'Ziir lost his target. "Would she bite if I tried to kiss her?"

"You better not even try!" Lydia struggled but his body was made or stone.

"A little poisonous, isn't she?" he smiled underneath his hood. "A real Queen you have here. You rarely see those. Few men seek them out willingly. But when you see one, what a rare sight she is, lad."

His words. Something changed. J'Ziir lowered his bow and the anger washed away. A door swung open somewhere in the back of his mind and a young boy walked in. No, not a boy anymore. A grown man but with the same wide smile and cocky attitude. (" _Lad! Do you know what they say about Queen's poison? It's a powerful aphrodisiac! What's that you ask! Well, let me tell you a little more about it…!)_ In a split second, he saw himself and his Nord brother standing in front of a huge cave, both were excited and afraid. He asked his brother if it was safe to go in. His smile was crooked and he shook his head. Entering a Queens's nest was never safe.

_"But what a rare sight she is, lad!"_

"B...Brynjolf?" J'Ziir said his name.

The thief was startled. His smile vanished. He didn't linger, in a blink of an eye he pushed Lydia towards J'Ziir and disappeared into the woods. Lydia fell face first on the cold stone path. J'Ziir bounced over her and ran after the dark silhouette. His concern over Lydia's safety had completely died out. He was now chasing after the only elusive memory he couldn't catch. And here he suddenly was, in flesh and blood. Alive and as slippery as before. Even more so.

As soon as he reached the dark thickness of the trees he knew running around madly wouldn't help him. He slowed down, became a creature of the night, a silent predator looking intently for his prey. He could clearly see every tree, every bush, and rock and his ears turned towards every crackle and rustle. With silent steps, he followed the dark shadow. He couldn't see him, but he could smell his scent. And very soon he heard his breath. He stopped and listened. The man wasn't far.

He knelt and whispered into the forest. A wave of pain washed over him, but he tried his best to ignore it. Soon enough he was able to see every living creature near him. Red glowing aura revealed them to him. He didn't care about the deer and the rabbits that were on the edges of the shout but concentrated on the shape of a man. He could see his shadow, hiding down between two fallen trees, looking for his pursuer. J'Ziir knew he had the advantage here. The Nord was blind in the darkness, but he was good at this game. J'Ziir needed the help of his shout to locate him. The Khajiit backed away and quietly circled around. He wasn't going to kill him and he wished he didn't have to hurt him but he pulled out his ebony dagger, just in case.

"Turn around, slowly," he pushed his dagger sharply against his ribs and the man cursed under his breath.

"Well, aren't you a clever one," he chuckled.

"I don't have time for jokes," J'Ziir grunted, grabbed him by his arm and pushed him against the trees. The moons were shining brightly and as he yanked the man's hood away, he saw a familiar face. J'Ziir felt like he was moving backward, like the drift of time had suddenly changed and he was a little boy again.

"Look, lad, I'm not into men," the thief sneered. "But there are plenty of places where you can find what you need. Let's make a deal. You let me go and I'll help you find some company."

"Shut your mouth and let me think," J'Ziir sheathed his dagger and stared at him.

"Lad," the man touched his shoulder compassionately. "That angry attitude is kind of attracting but it won't help you."

J'Ziir's eyes moved from his face to the hand on his shoulder. No one touched him like that in years. Even when he captured this strange prey of his, ambushed him and threatened him with a knife, he didn't seem upset or worried. Like most of the men he encountered, this one didn't beg for his life. In fact, he seemed confident that he wouldn't die.

"Queen Frostbite," J'Ziir finally began. "What a rare sight she is?"

"Oh," he smiled. "Now I know why you aren't worried for that little lady you left behind. I guess she can handle herself. Let me tell you though, she smelled good. Too bad you don't like women, lad. You don't know what you're missing."

"In front of a cave," J'Ziir continued and tried his best to ignore his words. He had to admit that he was a bit worried about Lydia and increasingly annoyed by his words. He knew Lydia smelled good. But he was not happy to remember how and why he knew it. That door still remained closed.

"A cave?" he repeated. "Um...doesn't ring a bell, lad..."

"Nearly twenty years ago, you showed me a Queen," J'Ziir said and watched as the expressions on his face changed. "You told me we wouldn't be safe. Entering a Queens's nest would never be safe. But...what a rare..."

"...sight she is, lad," he finished the sentence and looked at him not really sure what he was seeing. "J'Ziir?"

He nodded. "Brynjolf."

They stood there just looking at each other. Two little boys, both grown into men. Lost in time, lost in memories. Buried. But not forgotten. And then the read haired Nord did something J'Ziir never expected. He grabbed his long-lost brother and hugged him. Hugged him like family. J'Ziir wanted to push him away, he wasn't used to such gestures. But before he could do any such things, Brynjolf pushed him a little further and looked at him.

"I thought you were dead," he grunted with a smothered voice. "Like the rest of our family."

"I'm alive," J'Ziir said calmly.

_"Our family"._  That sounded strange but also oddly comforting. Brynjolf shook his head as if he still didn't believe his eyes. A ghost walked into his life. A ghost from the past. From the past, he laid to rest already. From the past he accepted. From that past, he thought he would never have to think again.

"You've grown cold," he deduced. "And humorless."

"What did you expect?" J'Ziir asked. "That I'd be jumping with joy after my parents died."

"Oddly, yes," Brynjolf smiled. "Mother almost skinned us alive when she found out we went to the nest."

For the first time in what felt like forever J'Ziir smiled. And with that smile, Brynjolf saw the little brother he enjoyed teasing and teaching. Showing new things and telling new stories. This full-grown Khajiit was far from the lanky, slim boy he remembered, but there were some things that remained. He knew he would probably discover more but that smile was a start. They had some many things to say to each other but Lydia's loud, almost desperate voice echoed through the forest. She was yelling J'Ziir's name, but she sounded more worried than afraid.

"Well, lad, here's your Queen now," Brynjolf smirked. "Shall we go before she finds us? Her bite might be poisonous."

"Trust me, it is," J'Ziir said.

"Let me share something with you then," Brynjolf smiled. "Frostbite poison is quite addicting. Like skooma. You get a taste, you want her to bite you again and again. Be careful, lad. You end up dead with a smile on your face."

It might be a bit too late for that, J'Ziir thought but remained silent. He already felt like a helpless skeever in a sticky net and the more he struggled the tighter he got trapped. But there was another danger that lurked deep within this trap. Like a resurrected corpse with no will of his own, he sometimes wanted willingly to follow his Queen.

Yes, Lydia was his Frostbite Queen. And everything in her was addicting. He found himself craving after her, more and more as each day passed. He still had the strength to fight it, but he knew Brynjolf was right. Once you get a taste, you want another taste. But it wasn't Lydia he had to watch out for.

It was his own raving desire to be poisoned that threatened to bring him down.


	41. Chapter 41

**41.**

They all sat around the cozy campfire. Three of them knew each other. The other two were strangers. But among them, it was Brynjolf who felt like he wasn't part of this small group. He noticed the proud grey-eyed Nord sitting a little too close to Raji, so he was obviously more than a friend. Marking his territory, it seemed, he chuckled to himself. And then there was the "Spider Queen", who had green eyes and a pretty smile. She was beautiful and attractive, exactly his type. And obviously, J'Ziir claimed his ownership over her, even when he did his best to deny it. When she sat next to him, he didn't push her away. And when Brynjolf stared at her for a little too long, J'Ziir's eyes grew cold and menacing. She was also sitting way too close to be just his housecarl.

In the light of the fire, Brynjolf could clearly see all the changes in his Khajiit brother that he had not seen in the dark forest. He didn't smile. His voice held an undertone that sends chills down his spine. But his eyes, those frosty, blue eyes. Icy as the winter sky. No feelings, no emotions. Nothing. Emptiness. And hidden beneath that thin layer of inhumanity was something even more disturbing. Brynjolf didn't want to dig deeper, he didn't want to see what he would find. He remembered that as a boy J'Ziir held some of his mother's charm and gentleness. As a child, this boy was a real softie. Crying over small little things, like dead birds or injured deer fawns.

And then there was the sister. The pretty little Raji with her white fur and blue eyes. The same eyes, but warm and friendly. Happy. Too cute to be my sister, Brynjolf thought to himself. He fully understood the grey-eyed Nord's need to claim his right. Still, he couldn't help to send him a challenging look and a confident smile that clearly said that he knew so much more about Raji than he ever would. The Nord met his gaze, confident and fearless. He had nothing to worry about. The two men stared at each other. Brynjolf felt that same stare just a few moments ago when they arrived at the camp and without hesitation, he grabbed Raji in his arms and hugged her. Her laughter was the prettiest sound he heard in a long, long time. It resembled Namada's laughter and Brynjolf was momentarily caught in his memories.

When Raji asked what happened to him, he didn't know where to start. He considered his words but decided it was best to go back to the beginning. To that day when they were supposed to come and get him from the orphanage. No one ever came. They all listened as he told them how he ran from Riften, climbed over the high stone wall of the city and ran through the rain to the small cottage. At first, he was angry and furious and believed that they didn't want him in their family after all. But as he arrived and saw the smoldering remains of the cabin, his outrage turned into desperation and grief. There was nothing left of the cozy little house, only the ghostly remains of the fireplace and the chimney. As the darkness fell he searched for them and he only wished he would find someone alive. But that faint hope soon vanished when he stumbled upon the dead bodies of Namada and Jo'Azirr. He didn't mention how tears blinded him and how he fell to his knees and shouted their names, over and over again. He believed Raji and J'Ziir had gone through the same feelings of grief and heartache. No need to increase their pain with his own.

The tears didn't dry that night and he didn't try to hide them. It took him all night to dig two shallow graves and bury the only parents he ever knew and had. And when he didn't find J'Ziir or Raji among the ruins or anywhere close to the house, he was both grateful and sad. Grateful because he believed that they had survived whatever happened. And extremely sad because he had no idea where they were and how they were doing.

Sura was relieved to hear that Brynjolf buried their parents. They hadn't been left there laying on the cold ground, rotting and gnawed bare by scavengers and skeevers. Vilkas wrapped his arm around her and she managed to give him a little smile.

"And you?" Brynjolf finally looked at them. "What happened to you?"

"I fell into the river," Sura said. "And I lost my memories and myself for years. I've been in Whiterun all this time."

"Doesn't matter," J'Ziir avoided Brynjolf's gaze. "We're here now."

"Well," Brynjolf sighed. "Quite a story, isn't it? Now what?"

"Will you take us the graves?" Sura asked. "I want to go there."

"It's not far," he agreed. "You do remember where the old house was."

Sura looked at J'Ziir and they both nodded. It was strange to go back, to be back here. For Sura it was a connection to her past, for J'Ziir it was a bunch of old memories he felt like he didn't really need. They weren't part of his life anymore, hadn't been in years. Those childhood days felt like he was reading a very old book of someone else's life. Like someone was showing him pictures and asked him to remember them. It was like this back then. You weren't really there, but this is what it was like.

"You go," J'Ziir said to Sura. "I need to leave."

"What?" Sura yelped. "What's so important now? Didn't you promise to come along?"

"I said we'll go to Riften together," J'Ziir stated. "And we are here now. But I have no need to see the graves or dig through some old memories. I remember enough. Brynjolf can take you."

"In that case," Sura reached out her hand. "Leave me your part of the Eye. I might need it."

J'Ziir frowned. He didn't feel comfortable without the necklace. But Raji's eyes were adamant and reluctantly he took the jewel off and handed it to her. "Why do you need it?"

"Maybe I don't," she said and slipped it around her neck. "But you never know. Surely you're not superstitious, are you? Since you don't have any emotional attachment to our family anymore, why carry around an old, useless memento."

"Are you testing me?" he growled.

"That attitude doesn't work on me," Sura said calmly.

"Apparently not," J'Ziir sighed. He had no idea how to deal with this headstrong sister of his. He glanced at Lydia. "You stay here with Raji."

"No," Lydia shook her head. "I'm going wherever you are going. I'm your housecarl, remember."

"You stay here," J'Ziir stood up. "I need to get away from you for a while."

"And what if you need my help?" Lydia insisted.

"I doubt it," J'Ziir said and gestured Brynjolf. "I need to talk to you before I go."

As they walked to his horse, he could still hear Lydia's unhappy muttering from the campfire. It was the right decision to leave her behind. He was having real difficulties concentrating on anything else while she was around. And what worried him the most was the quick flashbacks he began to have. Whiterun, Breezehome, the bedroom. Lydia...naked...under him...he shook his head when the images became too vivid. He preferred not to remember. Brynjolf followed him and smiled. Leaving the little lady behind wouldn't help things. Since J'Ziir was - clearly against his will - so head over heels for his housecarl, all he probably could do was think of her wherever he went. As a good friend, he decided to help and add some oil to the fire.

"Don't worry, lad," he punched him on the shoulder. "I'll look after your Queen while you're gone. With both eyes."

"There's something else I need you to do," J'Ziir frowned. "You have contacts?"

"Plenty," Brynjolf smiled. "What you need?"

"The murder of our parents, I know who was behind it," J'Ziir saddled his mare. "But there must be more to it. I need to get to the bottom of this. Do some digging and let me know what you find."

"Sure, but it won't come cheap," Brynjolf said.

"Gold is not a problem," J'Ziir took out a heavy coin purse and tossed it to him. "Send me a message if you find something. Or if you need more."

"I would if I knew where you're headed," Brynjolf tucked the purse inside his armor.

"High Hrothgar," J'Ziir jumped on the saddle. "Send a message at the Inn in Ivarstead if you need to reach me."

"Anything else, lad?" Brynjolf was slightly amused by his attitude. Like he was listening to an organized boss who knew exactly what he was doing. Brynjolf knew J'Ziir had plans. And he was a little worried about his own part in all of this. Obviously, he was merely a pawn in this dangerous game of his.

"Keep your eyes off the Queen," J'Ziir smiled but it was not a friendly, brotherly smile. It was a threatening smile that left to room for misunderstandings. "I found her first."

"Shouldn't you allow the Queen to choose her own servants?" Brynjolf couldn't help himself.

"I think she made her choice already," J'Ziir continued and glanced towards the campfire. "Instead of the Queen, be wary of the wolf."

"The wolf?" Brynjolf followed his gaze. "You mean the doe-eyed lover boy?"

"He's not just all that," J'Ziir's eyes grew cold. "Keep your eyes on Raji. I don't want her to get hurt. She's already suffered enough."

"He doesn't seem too bad," Brynjolf chuckled. "A little too honorable maybe..."

"A little?" J'Ziir scoffed. "Wait till he finds out what you really are and he'll show his true colors."

"Worry not," Brynjolf patted his horse. "I'll take care of things at this end. You just look after yourself, lad."

J'Ziir nodded, urged his horse around and in few seconds he was gone. Brynjolf turned and walked back to the camp. He sat down and added some wood the dying flames. Lydia was silent and moping and Brynjolf knew J'Ziir was right. The Queen made her choice. But it was such a shame for a beautiful woman like her to look so serious. He was about to stand up and walk to her when Raji took the old book she was holding and sat next to Lydia. Brynjolf sighed. Clearly, luck was not on his side.

"Lydia," Sura touched her friend's hand. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know what to do anymore," Lydia exclaimed but lowered her voice when the two men glanced at them. "Do you know what has happened?"

"No," Sura shook her head.

"You and he are the same, right," Lydia turned to look Sura and pressed her index finger on her forehead. "Your brain...you can't forget anything, isn't that right?"

"I believe so," Sura nodded. "Why?"

"He forgot," Lydia scowled. "Or he claims he did!"

"What did he forget?" Sura dared to ask and was little afraid to hear the answer.

Lydia looked at the flames and turned to her friend. Sura had always been there for her. Now she didn't know what she felt for that annoying, stubborn Thane of hers. Confiding to her might help. Or not. It didn't matter. She had to tell someone.

"We..." Lydia began, moved closer to Sura and whispered. "We...made love."

"So, that's what this is about!" Sura smiled. "He doesn't remember!"

"What's so funny about that?" Lydia backed away and felt utterly betrayed. She had at least expected some kind of sympathy from Sura, not such a joyous, gleeful reaction.

"No, I don't mean it like that," Sura hurried to calm her down. "I'm just...well, I didn't think that you two were so...close already."

"Close?" Lydia rolled her eyes. "You call that close? He was bitten by a Frostbite and I tried to take care of him...and one thing led to another and...I don't think you can actually call it lovemaking...it was more like...I was there at the right time. It could have been anyone else as well. It didn't matter to him was it me or Yos..."

"A Frostbite?" Sura interrupted her. "Oh...now I see..."

"Would you stop that?" Lydia was annoyed. "Since when did you began to speak in riddles?"

"Here," Sura gave her the old, tattered book. "I was wondering what this sentence meant, but it was not for me to understand. I believe father meant it for you."

Lydia's eyes flickered. She wasn't sure what this was about. Sura's father? But she didn't know him at all. And he had no idea who she was. And the man was long gone, dead and buried. Reluctantly she took the book in her hands. There were only a few lines on that otherwise empty page. But when she read them, a very warm, comforting feeling spread through her body. Like someone was looking after her, knew about her heartache and wanted to alleviate her pain.

_"Queen's bite is very poisonous. Those foolish boys! Sometimes it causes short time memory loss. I've experienced it myself. He will remember. And when he does, he will return to your side."_


	42. Chapter 42

**42.**

The road to High Hrothgar was easier this time. Not because Lydia wasn't there. It was easier because he didn't leave his horse behind. And the mountain was filled with snow and the wind was as fierce as before he felt like he was stronger and more prepared. His sturdy mare was tough and only looked at him calmly when he dismounted in front of the massive monastery. Then it shielded itself from cold wind and lay down in the snow. Its owner strolled down the stone stairs and pushed open the heavy metal doors. The roaring wind was completely blocked out and the silence surrounded him like a comforting, soft blanket. This time he enjoyed coming to this place. For some reason, he appreciated its peace now. After everything, it was nice to be in a quiet, tranquil place.

He walked forward and his steps were the only sounds that echoed through the halls. He had the old horn in his hand and he was ready to hand it over to Arngeir. The old man was nowhere to be seen. He saw the other brothers meditating around the monastery. He felt like he wanted to join them, calm his thoughts and gather all the confused feelings he had.

He returned to the main hall and spotted Arngeir by the huge metal doors. How did I miss him? he thought and strolled ahead. But as he came closer he noticed the old man wasn't alone. He was talking to an Argonian. And an ugly one at that. Red scales, massive horns, bulging muscles. J'Ziir couldn't make out his face, it was covered in shadows. What he did notice were the long, deep scars that ran down his face and over his other eye.

Arngeir heard him approach and the old monk turned away from the Argonian. For a few seconds, J'Ziir's eyes met the Argonians. Shivers ran down his spine and he backed away. Then the lizard turned, opened the door and disappeared.

 _(_ W _hen I met the Argonian, he told me you would have enough strength to see through it all. No…that's wrong. I didn't meet him…he found us. Found you. You are his salvation and he is yours…the book…in Whiterun. Belethor said he bought it from an Argonian! I should have taken it with me!_ )

Arngeirn guided J'Ziir further into the monastery and began talking about Jurgen Windcaller and the way of the voice, but for some reason, J'Ziir wanted to turn around, run outside and catch that elusive man. He wasn't sure what he wanted to ask or why. It wasn't necessarily even the same Argonian. And he couldn't run after every lizard in the land now, could he?

On the icy steps of the monastery, the old Argonian stopped. He looked back and a sad smile rose to his anguished face. His other eye was blind, but with it, he could see things that no human could. So, he thought to himself. The boy has grown into a man. That's good, he smiled and nodded. He felt extremely tired and was willing, ready to face his fate and end this torment. But as long the World-Eater was alive, he had to persist. He could not, would not join the others. They were looking for him, but Paarthurnax was right. He had to persist.

J'Ziir wanted to leave the monastery as soon as he was able but something prevented him. Instead, he stayed for longer than he originally planned. For a change, he listened to what Arngeir had to say. And when the first night came and went and he lay on his stone bed, she came to him like a ghost. High Hrothgar was a place for men; there were no women inside these walls. But his Spider Queen came and went as she wished and spun her silky web as she pleased.

_Lydia. Lydia. Lydia._

He was determined to fight it. He left her behind to get away from her. But she came along anyway. She didn't ask his opinion. In the first night, she just sat beside him and watched him. On the second night, she smiled, sat and watched. On the third night, her armor was gone and her hair was spread all over her naked shoulders like a silky veil. On the fourth night...

On the fourth night, J'Ziir woke up, covered in sweat and remembered everything. Every tiny detail. Every moan, every whisper of desire. He could almost feel Lydia's soft skin under his fingertips. He was more aroused than ever.  _Two dogs in heat_ , he reminded himself. Just two dogs in heat. He stood up and walked to the narrow corridor where the monks meditated during the days. He kneeled down in front of a large window, closed his eyes and willed the images out of his head. Forced them out. And as he opened his eyes moments later, Lydia was sitting next to him, wearing only that seductive smile of hers and nothing else. J'Ziir knew she wasn't real but still, he reached out his hand. Lydia cocked her head so that his fingers could caress her cheek.

 _No!_ he pulled his hand away and Lydia pouted.  _Do not let her crawl under your skin!_  He took a deep breath, stood up from the stone floor, grabbed his armor, got dressed and walked out into the courtyard. The whole mountain was surprisingly quiet. The wind calmed down and the auroras were blazing in the sky.

"Stop following me," he grunted as he saw her standing in the courtyard.

"Do you really want me to?" Lydia smiled.

"Yes! Go away!" J'Ziir sighed. "I don't want to see you anymore."

"If you don't want to see me," Lydia rolled her eyes. "Why do you picture me naked? Can't you at least give me some clothes?"

"Why do you care? You're not really here," J'Ziir replied.

"And doesn't that make you feel sane?" Lydia circled him slowly. "Tell me, my Thane. Are you slowly starting to lose your mind?"

"My mind was shattered years ago," J'Ziir tried to push her away but when his hand went straight through her, even he was really starting worry.

"Oh, I know all about your suffering and how it still haunts you," Lydia said and took a step closer. "But there are ways to forget the pain. Want me to show you?"

"No, thanks," J'Ziir glared at her. "I tried you already. I'd rather take skooma next. Do you have any?"

"I'm naked," Lydia smirked. "Do you see any pockets on me? But you can inspect me if you suspect foul play. Put your hands here," Lydia brushed her breasts.

At that point, J'Ziir turned away from the alluring image. He walked away from her but when she suddenly was standing in front of her, he stopped to his tracks. Was there no end to this nightmare?

"Nightmare?" Lydia crossed her arms. "How appropriate. I always love it when you shower me with compliments! I must be the luckiest woman alive. To bed the Dragonborn..."

"Don't! Remind! Me! Of! That!" J'Ziir closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

"Remind you?" Lydia teased. "Forgive me. I thought you are unable to forget anything. How come our night is the only thing you suddenly can't recall?"

Our night? Had she really called it that? As if they were completely in love and it was nothing less than their wedding night. Like it was some romantic encounter under the stars and illuminated by thousands of candles.

"We had candles," Lydia mentioned. "But I think it was raining. I can't remember. I was so enthralled by your hands and mouth. Compared to all the other lovers I've had, I'd say you were one of the best."

"Other lovers?" J'Ziir suddenly froze. "What other lovers?"

"Oh, did I hit the nerve?" Lydia glanced at him. "Surely you don't assume that you were the first man I've had. And I can't promise you are the last either."

"Are you talking about that future husband of yours? I thought you mentioned that it didn't work out," J'Ziir asked and now he was almost too curious. Dangerously so. He didn't want to be this desperate to know about the other men in Lydia's life.

"Hadvar?" Lydia smiled. "He was one. Very careful and very considerate, unlike others I know. And I have to say that brother of yours is quite the catch. Aren't you worried at all that you left me behind?  _Under_  his care?"

"No," J'Ziir said but now he wasn't that certain anymore. "I trust Brynjolf..."

"You trust a thief?" Lydia laughed. "A womanizer you just met after twenty years. A thief, who only wants to steal things from others? Be it gold or women? I bet his hands are magical though since he knows how to use them."

J'Ziir swallowed. This wasn't fair. It was only his mind talking to him like this. The real Lydia would never say such things. She was bold but not this bold. And yet, she mentioned there were many other men including Hadvar. He didn't really want to know who they were...did he?

"Why should I tell you?" Lydia snapped at him. "You don't care. I think I'll go now. Do whatever you want up here, in this secluded little place of yours. Where you ran away from me in hopes to find peace."

One gust of the wind and she was gone. J'Ziir turned around and hoped, wished to see her familiar figure but only the wind whistled behind his back. And slowly something crawled into his mind, something that Raji had said earlier.

_"What are you going to do if someday you look for her and she's not there?"_

"Ly...Lydia?" he called out into the night. "Come on, this is not funny. Come out."

He was all alone. No answer. No silent giggle, no green eyes meeting his blue ones. He turned around in circles and called her name again. Then a rational part of his brain took control. Stop it! it ordered him. You don't need that woman. You don't need anyone. He ignored the frantic commands of his brains and continued to call Lydia's name. "Come out! Our conversation is not over."

"It is, my love," Lydia's voice whispered in the wind. "All I need to know is that you care enough to call for me."

 _My love?_  J'Ziir staggered backward and fell to his knees when those words reached him. No, don't love me. It's not worth it. Don't waste your feelings on someone like me. There are plenty of other men in this world.

"Other men?" Lydia continued whispering. "You are the only one I want."

"Don't," J'Ziir dug his claws deep into the frozen ground. "I don't want it. I don't want you."

"I know," Lydia's comforting voice reached him. "But I still want you."

He looked up and Lydia was there. Like she always had been. Patient, smiling, encouraging, supporting Lydia. She stood a few feet away from him and waited for him to take the separating steps. The distance was short but to him, it was miles and miles of unknown land filled with traps and deadly devices.

"I can't," he muttered. He was having difficulties to breathe. "I can't."

"I'll wait," Lydia smiled.

"It's not worth it," J'Ziir sighed. "I'm not...worth it."

"Of course you are," Lydia didn't give up. "More so than anyone else."

She stood there, under the stars, stubborn and adamant. J'Ziir saw her like he'd never seen anyone. Utterly beautiful, strong, reassuring. Her small figure radiated peace and security. A place where he could forget the hate that still ate him away. There was a time when he only wanted to die. A time when it didn't matter to him. But now...looking at Lydia...he felt a desperate need to live. To remain alive, for her. A few minutes later he was able to stand up. Lydia was still standing there.

"Now that you remember," Lydia said. "You better come back to me. As soon as possible. I'm not giving you another chance."

"I'll come back when I want to," J'Ziir tried to keep his cool but after being forced to his knees in front of her, it was very, very difficult.

"Sure you do," Lydia smiled. "But I think it's rather sooner than later."

"Keep dreaming," he looked at her one last time and turned away. As he walked out of the courtyard, he knew his time in High Hrothgar had come to an end.


	43. Chapter 43

**43.**

Sura looked at the two small, worn out gravestones. Grey. Nameless. Unnoticeable. She looked back at the barely visible remains of their old house. Of home. Brynjolf stood next to her and placed his hand on her shoulder. She looked up at him and tried to smile. But the smile soon turned into tears. Tears that waited years to come. Brynjolf knew it and pulled her gently into his arms. All she needed now was someone to be there. Someone who knew what happened and who shared the same grief. But Brynjolf's tears were long gone. He cried enough when he was young. There was no one else on that small clearing. They didn't know how long they stood there, just holding onto each other. Eventually, Brynjolf touched her shoulders, pushed her a little further and wiped her tears away with his thumbs.

"What a little crybaby you are," he gently smiled to her.

"These tears are years too late," Sura sighed. "How could I forget, Brynjolf? How can I forget something this important? My own family? My parents and my brothers!"

"Sometimes it's better to forget, lass," Brynjolf said. "Be merciful to yourself."

"No, I wanted to remember," Sura looked at the gravestones. "Them, J'Ziir. And you," she smiled at him.

"Even me?" Brynjolf smirked. "What a lucky man I am. Are you sure you want to settle for that grumpy looking Nord of yours? Didn't I promise to marry you? I saw you first, you know."

"I don't think you really want to get married," Sura giggled. "With me or to anyone else."

"I might consider it," Brynjolf cocked his head. "If it was you...or that pretty housecarl that our ignorant brother left behind."

"If I were you," Sura smiled. "I'd stay away from Lydia. For your own sake."

"Why? Is she that dangerous? Sound promising," Brynjolf smirked.

"Not Lydia," Sura didn't look at him. "But J'Ziir is kind of possessive."

"He is not here," Brynjolf shrugged. "What he doesn't know won't hurt him."

"And you think that he won't find out?" Sura asked. "Come now, you're not that stupid, are you?"

Brynjolf didn't answer. He glanced around. Is J'Ziir really so suspicious? he thought. That he wouldn't trust me? That he'd go around behind me back and spy on me? When he thought about it, of course, it was logical. Years passed and they barely knew each other. A short chat by the campfire the other night didn't promise eternal trust and friendship. Sura noticed his frantic moves. Brynjolf knew it too, even if he didn't want to acknowledge it. She knew J'Ziir wasn't around but she knew he would come back. Sooner rather than later. She didn't believe him when he said that he remembered enough. That he wasn't interested to see their parents graves. His reactions were strong. His reluctance to be separated from the other part of the Eye confirmed her beliefs. J'Ziir cared. More than he was willing to admit.

Sura kneeled down, opened her knapsack and pulled out the old, stuffed rabbit. She caressed it gently and then she placed it at the foot of the gravestones. She could almost see a faint smile on its face. It was finally home. Where it belonged. She wasn't sure was her imagination just playing tricks on her or had the small stuffed rabbit really smile. But nothing in this place seemed real. She glanced around. What was real in this place? Her father lived his whole life in two different worlds. Even beyond the grave he reached out and guided them. Helped them. And as for their mother...Sura wasn't sure that the things she remembered were real. Like their father, had their mother also hidden something from them? Did she have her own secret life? Something she kept from them when they were children. She stood up, turned and was suddenly face to face with her mother. It was only for a brief moment and she was sure Brynjolf saw nothing. But she was there. Namada. Transparent, glowing figure. Smiling. And then she was gone. She wanted something. Sura didn't know what but she had no doubt she would find out, soon enough. They walked back to the small camp where Lydia and Vilkas were waiting for them. The camp was near the lake and Riften was clearly visible on the other side. During her childhood she often came to the lake, to swim, to play, to just watch the sunset in its glorious blaze of gold, orange and yellow. She watched the stone walls of the city and wondered about the people who lived there. The only one she knew was Brynjolf, her "elder brother".

Vilkas heard them coming. He did his best to let Sura come and go as she pleased. He didn't want to prevent her but he wasn't completely relaxed with the red-headed Nord around. Especially when those two were so close. He told himself that they were family, nothing more. As they walked back to the camp, they were talking to each other. Heads together, too intimately. And as they joined him and Lydia, Brynjolf smirked. It was the kind of smile which told him that they shared a bond. Special bond. Something he could never achieve. Or break.

Lydia was still unhappy. J'Ziir actually left her behind. Because she was pouting, she didn't notice when Brynjolf sat next to her. A little too close for comfort. Sura did but said nothing. Her only worry was that J'Ziir would do something violent when he returned. But Brynjolf was a grown man, able to defend himself. And a black eye or few broken ribs wouldn't kill a man like him.

"So, housecarl," Brynjolf began. "What are you good at?"

"Huh?" Lydia glanced at him and noticed he was right next to her. She cleared her throat and moved further away from him.

"Do you prefer to use a sword? Have a good wrist action?" Brynjolf smirked and swung his hand slowly up and down. "Or does bow and arrow suit your better?"

"I'm not very good with bows," Lydia coughed. "I like swords."

"Big ones? Small ones?" Brynjolf moved a little closer to her. "Two-handed?"

"Just regular swords," Lydia glared at him. "Why do ask?"

"See, I'm trying to understand how you...serve your Thane," Brynjolf looked at her straight in the eye. "The more you have experience, the better. Experience, lass. I can share some of that with you."

"You would?" Lydia looked at him suspiciously. "Why?"

"I like you," Brynjolf smiled. "I'm willing to share my knowledge for free. A rare opportunity. I'll even throw a bottle of Falmer blood elixir on top of it. How about it?"

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked. She was intrigued. This man was so different from J'Ziir, open and friendly. But Lydia sensed he was more than that. And it wasn't only "experience" he was willing to offer. If she had the courage this man would take her to places she had never been. She cared for J'Ziir but in her tormented and confused heart, Brynjolf was appealing and thrilling.

"Let's see how you move," Brynjolf grabbed her hands and pulled her up. He circled her slowly and Lydia felt like she was a cow who was being inspected for breeding.

"Look, I don't need experience," Lydia shoved him further. "I know enough."

"Doubtful," Brynjolf grinned and stepped closer. "Don't you remember how easy it was for me to attack you?"

"I...I wasn't myself back then," Lydia snapped.

"Want to try again?" Brynjolf suggested. "Now you can clearly see where I am. No surprises. No cover of darkness."

"If I refuse?" Lydia crossed her arms and frowned.

"My my!" Brynjolf smiled at Sura. "Is this truly the first time that I'm being rejected?"

"Yes, don't test me," Lydia glared and sat back down. She stared at the flames for a few minutes and then she pulled out her bedroll and buried herself inside it. Only a few dark curls of her hair were visible.

"Giving up, are we?" Sura asked innocently as Brynjolf sat down by the fire.

"No," Brynjolf replied. "I'm only getting started. I know taming the Queen isn't easy."

Sura wasn't sure was he joking or serious. He might want to tease Lydia because of her feelings for J'Ziir. But if Brynjolf was serious and really wanted Lydia for himself this could only end badly. And then, broken ribs and black eyes wouldn't be enough. Then, there would be blood. And lots of it. Sura sighed. He knew Brynjolf wasn't the kind of man Lydia wanted in her life. But she could see the appeal he had on her, on any woman. But trusting Brynjolf...and losing J'Ziir...Sura believed Lydia knew the answer to that question.

The forest grew quiet and the stars appeared on to the night sky. Sura was lying next to Vilkas but she knew he wasn't sleeping. Neither was she. She heard Lydia's steady breathing and was glad that at least she was able to get some rest. Brynjolf disappeared a few hours ago and Sura knew he wasn't coming back tonight. That didn't bother her. What kept her awake was the image of her mother. And the feeling that she wanted to tell her something. She pushed the covers aside and sat up. She touched the Eye. The jewel was now hanging from her neck, both pieces separated but still together. She asked J'Ziir's piece because she believed he didn't need it now. Whatever he would face, he was able to overcome it.

She pulled her knapsack to her and rummaged through it until she found what she was looking for. The old book with withered leather covers. As she pulled it out she didn't notice the small leather pouch that fell to the ground next to her sleeping bag. She browsed the book and was amazed to notice that some of the pages she wasn't able to read were now free. But most of the pages were empty. Only the last one contained something.

Three cryptic words.  _Soul. Heart. Tears._

It wasn't her father's handwriting. It was more feminine and she recognized it immediately. She stood up, grabbed the book and left the camp. As soon as she vanished into the woods, Vilkas was up. He was about to go after her and then he remembered that Lydia was alone and sleeping. But Sura was alone as well. And the last time he left her alone, caused them both endless heartache. His heart made its choice.

He reached for his sword and noticed the small leather purse on the ground. He took it, opened it and the two rings rolled on to his palm. The blue sapphire band around the smaller ring glimmered like Sura's eyes. The bigger one was made from smooth silver and it was decorated with dark ebony stripes. Vilkas knew Eorlund poured hours and hours of fine work into those rings. He squeezed them into his hand, tucked them inside his armor and then he ran after Sura.


	44. Chapter 44

**44.**

Sura arrived at the ghostly remains of the house. In the dim light of the night, the old chimney and the few rotten boards looked eerie and frightening. She looked around and saw shadows amongst the trees. Dead things, moving at the edges of her imagination. Silent whispers. Words she couldn't understand. Fear gripped her when she thought she saw the Orc standing beneath the trees. Then his shadow disappeared and everything grew quiet again. She held the book in her hand and wondered where she should start. Something about souls, hearts, and tears. She had no idea what her mother meant with such words. She heard hurried steps behind her and was filled with relief to see Vilkas running out of the darkness. Whatever this all meant at least she wouldn't face it alone. He ran to her and pulled her into his arms. She knew he was worried and she left guilty for not telling him where she left so suddenly.

"What are you doing?" he asked and his voice was angry.

"I'm sorry," Sura sighed. "I should have said something."

"Yes, you should have," he grunted but didn't let go of her. "Look, we are in this together, aren't we? Why are you shutting me out?"

"I don't want to," she looked at him. "I really don't. But even I can't understand everything that's going on. How do you expect me to explain it to you?"

He saw the frustration and confusion in her eyes. Because of that, he hated her parents. To cause such misery years after their death. To cause pain to her and drag her deeper into this weird world of theirs. He didn't want to lose her completely to this madness. But that's where this all seemed to lead. Pulling her out of a world he knew nothing about...he didn't know if he was strong enough to do that. If he was capable enough.

"Alright," he finally said. It seemed he couldn't fight this. "What is it now? Your father?"

"No," Sura shook her head. "My mother, actually. She left me a message in my father's journal. It's like a riddle that I need to solve. But I don't know where to start."

"What kind of a riddle?" Vilkas asked and now he was interested. He had read books his whole life, sucked all the knowledge he could get his hands on. Mysteries and puzzles always caught his attention and he was rather good at solving them.

"Just three words," Sura showed him. "Soul, heart and tears."

"Something to do with your childhood maybe," he guessed. "Soul...didn't your father collect soul gems?"

"Yes," Sura nodded. "But there was nothing particular about those. It was just a bunch of dusty, old gems. He never used them, at least I don't remember it."

"There seems to be a lot you didn't know," Vilkas remarked.

"That's what frustrates me," Sura admitted. "Why can't they just tell me what they want? Why say things I don't understand. They can't expect me to know what this all means just by writing a few random words."

Vilkas smiled. She was confused but that didn't seem to dampen her spirit. And to see her getting angry at her parents was a good sign. He was afraid that she would just swallow this all without questioning it, follow this weird path to its unsettling end. But once again her strength surprised him and he reminded himself that he shouldn't be this amazed. He noticed that this was the first time they were alone since that night by the river. And her angry, annoyed expression was beyond cute. She was too beautiful. He pulled her back into his arms and this time he wasn't worried or angry. His right hand caressed her chin and gently he lifted her face up. He smiled, bent down and kissed her.

"I miss you," he whispered against her lips.

"I'm right here," she replied, tossed the book to the ground and wrapped her arms around him. "How can you miss me?"

"You ignore me," he complained. Her lips were warm and soft. Kissing her was different, odd and strange. Thin lips, sharp teeth. Raspy tongue. It was odd but pleasurable and satisfying. He liked it and knew that this was the last woman he ever wanted to kiss. Do more than kiss.

"I don't ignore you," she grabbed his hair and pulled him closer. His scent exited her, his lips devoured hers, and his hands roamed her body. The night disappeared; the riddle vanished from her mind. What mattered now was this man and the fact that she wanted him so badly. His lips left hers and she threw her head back. His mouth slowly traveled down her neck and small whimpers escaped her lips. When his hands touched her breasts through the fabric, she whispered his name, longingly. It echoed in the night and the warm spring wind embraced them. When his lips once again found hers, now more passionate and demanding, she pulled him down to the ground with her and the soft bed of autumn leaves welcomed them.

_Not like this!_  Vilkas shouted in his mind. He didn't want to take her like this, next to the old ruins of her childhood home and just a few feet away from her parent's graves. But her hold of him was strong and her scent surrounded him, enveloped him and called out to him. Lavender and tundra cotton. He deepened the kiss, their lips and tongues danced together and his hand caressed her breasts, felt the hard nipples through the fabric. How he longed to taste her body, to see more and feel more. Give her pleasure and see those bright blue eyes fixated on him. Once again he allowed his mouth to travel down her neck and even as his eyes were closed a blue light glowed through his eyelids. He stopped and opened his eyes. He pulled back and Sura let out a disappointed moan.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Being too honorable again?"

"Something's happening," he pulled her up and pointed at her neck. "The jewel. It's glowing."

Sura glanced down. Vilkas was right. The two separated parts of the Eye emanated a faint, blue glow. She looked at him and neither of them knew what this all meant. The book was lying next to her and the last page was open.  _Soul. Heart. Tears._

"Wait," Vilkas pointed at the necklace. "Doesn't that thing contain the souls of your parents? Maybe..."

"Should I unite it?" Sura asked.

"Well, right now I can't think of anything else," Vilkas replied. "And it's glowing. So, unless your parents wanted to...you know...prevent us...or, protect your honor..." Vilkas groaned. He could clearly see it, her dead parents, hanging over them, watching them roll around among the leaves like two lustful skeevers. How awkward was that! Could this get more embarrassing?

Sura smiled and caressed his cheek. "I think the only one who wants to protect my honor is you."

"I just don't want you to remember it like this," Vilkas took her hand. "In the middle of nowhere, right next to your parent's graves. It shouldn't be like that. You deserve better."

"The place doesn't matter," she whispered. "As long as it's you."

"It will always be me," Vilkas assured her. "For the rest of our lives if you want."

"Are you proposing to me?" Sura teased him.

"I might be…" Vilkas laughed. "I will, eventually. I want you to be my wife. But for now, maybe we should try to figure this thing out. Do you remember how to unite that thing?"

Sura nodded. It was not a problem for her. Since that day she would always remember this spell. She took the two pieces in her hands, squeezed them tight together, closed her eyes and recited the words. She felt how the Eye became together, how its power surged through her body. The jewel inside her hand glowed brightly now, its light was radiant and intense, almost blinding. She placed it on her chest and as she opened her eyes they were filled with the same luminous glow. Vilkas grabbed her hands and whispered her name. When she answered back to him his beating heart calmed down a little. It scared him too much to let her go into that strange world by herself. But there was no way for him to follow her.

Things weren't that different to her. She knew Vilkas was there, she saw him clearly. But she also saw his wolf, lurking behind him. It wasn't menacing or threatening, it was simply there and would always be. She saw the old ruins of the house and the graves of her parents. And there, holding the old, stuffed rabbit stood her mother. Her figure was now clearer and Sura could see her features. Her fur was dark like the night, it was the same shade of black that J'Ziir's. Her eyes were like two golden coins, yellow and bright. She was wearing a strange armor, made of black leather. A weak wind lifted her cape. Her smile was gentle but there was a hint of sarcasm and cruelty. Sura immediately knew where J'Ziir got his bitter attitude from.

"Hello dear," Namada greeted her with her low voice. "You finally made it here."

"Mother?" Sura swallowed. "Is it really you?"

"Yes, it's me," Namada answered. "And I'm happy to see that you have found someone who loves you. Although what just happened...maybe there's a better place and time for it."

"Mother," Sura sighed. "Did you..?"

"No, dear," Namada laughed. "If I wanted to stop you two from mating..."

"Don't use that word," Sura raised her hand. "It sounds dirty. We are not animals."

"He is," Namada looked at Vilkas. "Never mind. Whatever happened, I had nothing to do with it. The Eye does what it wants. I can't control it."

"What's the meaning of this riddle?" Sura began to lose her patience.

"You brought me the soul," Namada caressed the rabbit. "Now you need to remember the heart and the tears."

"How am I supposed to know what those are?" Sura sighed.

"Heart of the home and tears of the sun," Namada smiled and her figure began to fade away. In few seconds Sur could barely make out her face and then she was gone. Vanished into thin air. The glow of the Eye dimmed and disappeared. This time she didn't need to recite the spell, the Eye detached itself and once again became two different parts of the necklace.

"What happened?" Vilkas asked her when she returned to his world.

"Heart of the home," Sura looked around. "Tears of the sun."

Heart of the home. She turned to the old house and realized the only thing that was still standing was the chimney. The fondest memories from her childhood were spent before the fireplace. The laughter, the jokes, the warm, cozy atmosphere. The long, exciting stories that their father told. The fireplace had always been the heart of their home.

"Follow me," Sura took Vilkas' hand and guided him to the ruins.

Even now, years later she saw old, familiar things. The rusty cooking pots. Wooden plates. Spoons, knives, clothes. Things that were not destroyed in the fire. Carefully she stepped over the old wooden roof beams and managed to avoid the rotting floorboards. The fireplace was covered in ash, dust, and dirt and when she touched the old stones she left her fingerprints behind.

"What are we looking for?" Vilkas asked.

"I'm not sure," Sura said. "But apparently it has something to do with the fireplace."

She bent down and peered inside the old chimney. At first, she saw nothing, only a cloud of dust and ash and a piece of the night sky at the other end of the stack. She was about to back out when something shiny glimmered in the light of the moon. She reached out and her fingers found a small key, old and black with soot. She brushed it with her sleeve and tried to figure out where it belonged. And how it ended up in the chimney in the first place. What made it shine? There was no light in the chimney? The moonlight couldn't reach the place. Once again she accepted that things happened because the Eye willed them. There was no other explanation.

"I found something," she showed the key to Vilkas. "Now we just have to figure out where it belongs."

"A cellar?" he wondered. "A trap door, maybe?"

"We didn't have a cellar in our home," Sura shook her head. There was nothing unusual about the key. It was small and made of iron and it had no markings on it.

_"Tears of the sun"_ , her mother's voice whispered in her head and an old memory slithered into her mind. On top of the small hill, at the back of their house. The early dawn when the sun was just rising. The morning was cold and wintry and the lake was covered in fog. But when the bright, red ball made its way up from the horizon, the fog began to dissipate. That short moment that only lasted for seconds. When the water drops were clearly visible in front of the sun.

"Can you see?" Namada asked her children. "How the sun is crying?"

Sura had asked why the sun shed tears. Was it sad because it had to rise again? Her mother smiled and shook her head. She told them that you can only see the tears in certain mornings when the air is cold and the water is warm. And the sun was crying because it could see the beauty of this world and intensify it with its own light.

"Tears of the sun," Sura smiled. "I know now. I know what she meant."

She grabbed Vilkas' hand and lead him to the small hill. It wasn't far from the old house and that's where they stood watching the sunrise on those special mornings when the sun shed its transparent tears. Even now, during the night she remembered it all so clearly. Their mother, J'Ziir, herself and Brynjolf. They all watched and admired.

"This is it," she told him. "Here is where watched how the sun cried."

"And the key?" Vilkas asked her. "Where does it belong?"

"We just have to find out, won't we?" Sura smiled at him.


	45. Chapter 45

**45.**

They looked for hours and then Vilkas practically stumbled upon it. His left foot caught on something and he almost fell face first to the ground. He cursed aloud and Sura glanced back at him. At first, he had no idea what his foot was caught on but then he pulled away some of the dead leaves and creep clusters. A small trap door was hidden underneath. It was cleverly placed, almost completely covered by an old tree stump and surrounded by big rocks. Even if wasn't covered by dirt and soil it would have been very difficult to spot. Sura came running and together they stood there thinking what they had discovered.

"See if it fits," he said to her and rustled the old iron lock. It was rusted and they key barely fit into the slot. She was having difficulties to turn it but eventually, the old lock gave away and creaked open.

"What do you think we find down there?" Sura asked him nervously.

"Well, she was your mother," Vilkas said. "You should know better than me."

"I thought I knew her," Sura twisted her hands. "But I knew nothing. Of her. Of my father. They are complete strangers to me."

"Let me ask you something," Vilkas gently grabbed her shoulders and turned her face him. "Would you tell such thing to your own child? Even if she couldn't understand? Would you push that knowledge onto her?"

"No," Sura mumbled. "I...I don't know. Maybe you're right. Do you think they kept all this from us just to keep us safe?"

"Safe, and happy," Vilkas nodded. "Carefree. Just as a child should be. You didn't need to know all this. What would you have done with that knowledge?"

She couldn't answer. Her rational mind said that Vilkas was right. But her heart whispered that maybe she would have been able to save them, somehow. Instead of just hiding. Even when J'Ziir gave her a look that told her to stay hidden. Even then she wanted to jump out the wagon and run to her family.

"Do you want to go by yourself?" Vilkas asked as he pulled the old trapdoor open.

The old hinges creaked and a gust of dust, soil and dirt made her cough. She stood there in front of the open hatch and peered down. Nothing but darkness. Narrow wooden ladder leading somewhere. Descending alone into that small hole frightened her. It was like diving deep into the mind of her mother. To a place where she had no business to be in. And at the same time, it was the safest place in the world. How could security and danger exist under the same name? Why did she feel like her mother held secrets that would cause more and more pain? Do I really want to dive deeper? she thought.

"Will you come with me?" Sura looked at Vilkas.

"Shall I go first?" he asked. "I'll see if I can find a torch down there so it won't be that dark. I'll call out when I reach the bottom and find some light."

"Be careful," Sura touched his hand. "I...I don't want to lose...you."

"You won't," he assured her. "And what would happen? Would she really attack me? You're not afraid of her, are you?"

Actually, I am, Sura wanted to say. She didn't know why she was so nervous. She had a feeling that whatever was down there wouldn't be too friendly. When he began to climb down she wanted to call him back and tell him not to go. When he disappeared from her sight she stood up and paced back and forth. Then she knelt down again and peered into the hole. Nothing. Like the darkness swallowed him whole. Eventually, her fear became too strong and she pushed aside any other concerns that she had. His safety was more important. And if she had to defy her own mother to keep him safe, then she wouldn't hesitate. Something was wrong, she was almost certain of it. She dropped down the ladder and began climbing down. Just a few feet away from the trapdoor the darkness became impenetrable. She didn't know how long it took for her to climb down but suddenly she reached the floor and turned around. And almost immediately she bumped into him.

"Sura?" Vilkas groped her in the dark.

"Are you alright?" Sura uttered a cry and grabbed his hands. "Why didn't you call out to me?"

"I told you I would after I found a torch," he comforted her. "But it's so dark that I can barely see my own hands. Why did you come down?"

"I was worried," Sura frowned.

"Well, I'm alright," he hugged her. "See for yourself."

He held her for a long time and as her heart calmed down she slowly began to distinguish her surroundings. She saw the end of the ladder, the open hatch above them and the night sky littered with stars. Ahead of them was a narrow stone passage that led deeper into the darkness.

"Alright," she whispered. "I'm alright now."

"Really?" Vilkas released her reluctantly. "Are you sure you don't want me to hold onto you a little longer?"

"You can do that later," Sura smiled. "Let's go."

"Any idea how to go on in this gods-forsaken darkness?" Vilkas asked her. "If we can't see anything, there's no point going forward."

"Hold on," Sura said. One of the earliest and easiest spells Farengar had taught her was a ball of light, small and poor. It didn't last long and it wasn't very bright but it would help them now until they would discover something else to light their way. She cast it and it hovered over their heads. It was bright enough to show them the way forward.

"Shall we go?" Sura looked at Vilkas.

He nodded, reached out and untied the leather straps of his sword, just in case. He didn't really believe that Sura's mother would attack them, especially her own daughter. But this was clearly some kind of secret hideout and he suspected traps. Even undead creatures guarding the place like in some ancient Nordic ruins. He told her to stay behind him and then they began to walk forward. It wasn't long till the path widened and soon enough they were standing on a narrow stone ledge that dropped steeply down. A small river that slithered by their cabin turned into a waterfall and the secret path led underneath it. Sura looked down and realized that this was the place where she fell. The horse, the wagon and she inside it. All went over this steep cliff and ended up in the roaring rapids below. And from there...to a future where her past didn't exist at all. The path went past the waterfall and then it curved left, deeper into the hill, under the house and beyond. The flickering light guided them and soon enough Vilkas spotted torches on the wall. He grabbed one and lit it. Again the path curved, this time to right and it began to rise higher. The walls were covered with moss and mushrooms. Sura touched the walls and felt water dripping through the cracks. They were somewhere near the river or the lake, she was almost sure of it.

The path widened and they arrived into a large chamber. The walls were covered in bookshelves and cupboards, there was a massive wooden table stacked against the other wall and countless chests, safes and strongboxes filled the empty spaces. Vilkas raised the torch and the light flickered. The cool air almost blew the flames out. At first, neither of them saw where the breeze came from but as they continued deeper into the room, they noticed the hole in the floor. Beneath it, they saw the crashing waves of Lake Honrich.

"I'll get us some more light," Sura said when she noticed a tinderbox and a bunch old candles on top of the table. As she lit most of them Vilkas stood up and ignited some of the torches on the walls. There were some wall scones as well and soon enough the place was bright enough for them to look around.

"This is interesting," Vilkas said. "This must be a hollow cliff side or something. Right on top of the lake. A clever place to hide."

"What's the hole for?" Sura wondered. "An escape route? Straight into the lake?"

"I doubt it," Vilkas glanced up and noticed an old, rusty hook on the ceiling. It was right on top of the hole, sturdy and strong. He didn't want to think what the hook was for. Certainly not for animals. No, it must have been used for more gruesome purposes.

"There are lots of books here," Sura walked to the table and picked up and old, dampened one. The pages tore off when she opened it and there wasn't a single word she could make out.

Vilkas left Sura to examine the table. He walked to the other side of the room tried to open of the chests. To his surprise, it wasn't locked. When he saw what was inside he couldn't breathe or speak. Hundreds of jewels, gold, diamonds and other precious gems. The whole chest filled to the brim. He opened the next and the next and the next and all of them were overflowing with riches.

"You better take a look at this," Vilkas turned to Sura. "This is...unbelievable."

"What is all this?" Sura rummaged through the chests. "Where all this came from? And who does it belong to?"

Her family wasn't rich. They weren't exactly poor but managed to get by. Her mother had a small garden where they got gourds, carrots, wheat and other ingredients. Their father bought meat from the local hunters and sometimes he went fishing with J'Ziir and Brynjolf. And now she was buried up to her neck in expensive jewels and gold coins. And all this hidden in some weird hideout right next to their house.

"I think it belongs to you now," Vilkas squat down next to her. "And your brothers. If all of this was indeed your mother's."

"Are you serious?" Sura gasped. "Giving this to Brynjolf? Don't you know what he is?"

"You don't trust him?" Vilkas smiled sarcastically. "He seems to be very fond of you. Would he really take all this gold and run? Leave his precious sister behind?"

"Wait a minute," Sura smiled innocently. "Are you jealous?"

"I might be," Vilkas pulled her closer and kissed her. "You better not give me a reason to break his bones."

"Don't worry," Sura laughed. "I think J'Ziir will do that for you."

They smiled at each other and then Sura stood up. She had no idea what to do with all the riches so she stepped back and decided to forget them for now. She walked back to the old table and brushed it with her fingertips. It was covered in dust. Most of the books were damaged by the wind and the water. She pulled open some of the drawers and found a bunch of old letters. From Cyrodiil and Elsweyr. Some were from Morrowind. She browsed through them but understood very little. Contracts. Some of them seemed like letters of extortion. She placed them back and kept looking. Suddenly her fingers found a small button under the table. She glanced back. Vilkas was going through the old bookshelves. She hoped that her mother didn't have any deadly traps in her hideout, spikes or other trapdoors and would drop them both down into the cold waves of Lake Honrich. She took a deep breath and pressed the button. A silent click and the top of the table slid aside. It exposed a small locker which contained a book, a small pile of letters and a weird, dark mask. Sura sat down and took the book in her hands. Another journal? More secrets? Am I ready to dive down once again? she thought. Deeper and deeper. How far shall I go?

_As far as I need to._

She took a deep breath, opened the book and began her long dive.


	46. Chapter 46

**46.**

_"Why did you save me? I asked. A woman like me. A murderer. Someone destined to die. In a public execution, in front of all those people. Why? I asked. Because I love you, he said. Even if I don't love you back? I asked. Even so, he answered. For how long? I asked. For as long as I live, he said. And beyond."_

_"I don't love him, but he is kind to me. He is patient. Every day he waits for me to give up this endless rage, this sadness that eats away at me. He says he doesn't want me to hurt and that he wants to take the pain away. I say I can't. I won't."_

_"We came to this land some time ago. Cyrodiil is behind us. And all the dead bodies between us. There are people here who are like me. With swift hands and similar minds. I've met a few of them. And I know I don't want to kill anymore."_

_"Zirr. Why do you love me? Why are you so patient with me? When you know what I am and you know what I'm capable of? If I leave you now, would you come after me? Without a doubt, he said. I would search for you from the ends of this earth until my legs gave up on me. And even when I lay there dying and out of breath my heart slowed down and withered, I would still reach out for you, Namada. That's what he said."_

_"I gave up on it all. For Zirr. I cried bloody tears. For my sisters, I begged their forgiveness. And I hid the blade. I buried it and the blood marks on it. For Zirr."_

_"Gallus, Karliah, and Mercer invited me with them tonight. I was initiated. A Nightingale. That's what I am. One of them. One of Nocturnal's servants. One of her black feathered crows. It feels good, to belong and to be accepted."_

_"Zirr doesn't force me. He wants me but he doesn't force me. He is gentle and patient. And I gave myself to him because he wanted me. In the end, I realized I wanted it too. I didn't know it before. How much I wanted him."_

_"Do I love him?"_

_"I'm with a child. His child. I don't know am I happy or sad. I don't know what I feel. To be a mother. Can I protect my child? Something so small and helpless? Zirr knows and he is excited. I still don't know how I feel about him. But his touch makes me feel good."_

_"My son was born a few days ago. My son. A beautiful little creature, black as the night with blue eyes. He has his father's eyes and my fur. He is a perfect little thing, like the two of us merged together in the best possible way. I didn't know what love was. What it's like to have something so dear, so precious. But whatever happens, I will protect my child and make sure he is safe in this cruel, cruel world."_

_"I think I love him. That terrifies me."_

_"Zirr. Why do you slither in my mind?"_

_"Someone wanted to hurt J'Ziir. The son of that awful woman from Riften. He is only two years old. No one touches my son and gets away with it. Zirr doesn't want to come here, but this time he did. He saw the body on the hook, saw the blood on the floor. I took that woman's husband. I had nothing to say, I wanted to protect J'Ziir. Zirr became angry. The first time in all these years I've seen him like that. So enraged. He wouldn't hurt me, I know, but he made a mess of this place with all the lighting and fire spells. Afterward, when he had spent all his energy, he fell to his knees and begged me to stop. He said I was endangering us all. I told him that so was he. With his hidden magic and with his relations to that power hungry Nord. Not to mention the Daedra."_

_"We made love. I know now for sure that I love him."_

_"How can I protect my son from my own husband? How can I ever forgive Zirr for this? How could he let that Argonian into our home? What did he do to J'Ziir that made him scream like that? Scream from pain and agony. And Zirr prevented me from going to him! He is so small, so weak. Such a sweet little boy. I don't know what that Argonian did, but my son was covered in fire and enveloped in some kind of glow. It didn't last long but how he screamed. Zirr...do you want me to kill you?"_

_"J'Ziir seems to be fine. He doesn't remember the Argonian. How could he, he is so small and he was sleeping when it all happened. And afterward, he went on sleeping. He wasn't hurt, only for those few seconds, he felt pain. There's nothing wrong with him. He chases after butterflies and bees and tries to crawl as far as he can."_

_"Zirr is a good father. When I see J'Ziir laughing and giggling in his arms, my heart flutters and I could just watch them for hours and hours. Even when I wanted to hate him, I couldn't stop loving him."_

_"Another child in on its way. Must be from that night when he came down here. I told him and he didn't seem happy. Has he stopped loving me? Now? When I'm starting to realize that I can't live without him?_

_"Mercer is up to something. Karliah warned me. We have gathered much here. In case we need assets we have what we need here. Mercer doesn't know about this place. Gallus doesn't want to believe it, he says Karliah is only imagining things. I'm afraid Karliah is right. And I worry about Gallus. He is too gullible sometimes."_

_"That woman came to me today. Maven. A proud one. Dangerous. She told me she knew what I did. That it was I who killed her husband. Instead of exposing my crime she decided to blackmail me. She wants me to give up all my contracts and move them under her name. I refused."_

_"She said I would regret my decision."_

_"My daughter was born. I don't know which child I adore more. J'Ziir is a cute little thing with his stumpy little nose and his small whiskers but Zahraji...how can words describe something so unique? So beautiful? Zirr looked at his daughter when she was born and I saw tears in his eyes. Then he gave her back to me and went outside. I don't know what he is thinking. I can't read his mind. I can't see the future as he does. Kynareth save me, when did I lose him?"_

_"I confronted him. Asked him. Do you love me anymore? He looked at me and said yes. Yes, I do. I will always love you. But I know now, he continued. I've seen what happens. And it's all because of me. The torture our children must go through. Because of me, he said. And he asked could I ever forgive him for that?"_

_"I love him. I would die with him. For him. And if what he sees is true then there must be a way to save them."_

_"Karliah came to me in the night. She is on the run. Mercer killed Gallus and framed her. She asked me to keep this between us for now. She said she would return one day and prove that it was Mercer who murdered Gallus. She asked me to stand by her that day."_

_"I promised I would."_

_"Mercer is the Guild Master now. Things have gone down the hill since that day. It's like Nocturnal cursed us. People are leaving in hopes to find something better."_

_"A young boy tried to rob me the other day. His hands were swift, but my eyes are faster. He wasn't disappointed when I grabbed his hand. He was impressed. He smiled and told me that I was the first one today who noticed him. He seemed to be proud of that. Little rascal."_

_"Brynjolf ran from the orphanage once again. He likes to spend time with us and Zirr is fond of him. J'Ziir also seems to like him, they are like brothers now. Going to places where they shouldn't go. And they are always eager to drag Raji along them. Once when I caught them near the caves. I was relieved to find them both alive and not stuck in the webs of those nasty creatures but if they dragged Raji there with them...even their father wouldn't have been able to save their little behinds."_

_"Gods help me! It was a Queen's nest!"_

_"Zirr woke up in the middle of the night. He was barely able to breathe. He got up from the bed and went to the children's bedroom. I don't know was it a nightmare or a vision but he was sure that our time was running out."_

_"Today he showed me Eye. It's magnificent. And scary. I pray that's its strong enough to save them."_

_"We have agreed to adopt Brynjolf. Despite everything, we have promised that to him. He is eager to leave the orphanage, he rarely stays there anymore. Zirr built him his own bed and for the past few nights, he's been sleeping here. But we have to send him away. So that he will be spared as well."_

_"I hope Brynjolf is able to forgive us."_

_"Zirr has never been this gentle with me. Everything he does is filled with affection. He tells me every day that he loves me. He touches me whenever he has a chance, he kisses me whenever he walks by. He holds me in his arms and I feel his heartbeat against my own when he makes love to me. It's like he doesn't want to let go. And neither do I. I don't want to let go of him. Why, why did I found him so late?"_

_"He came here tonight. And showed me the Eye again. It's time, he said. It's time to add the final ingredient. He held out his hand and asked me: do you trust me? I said I did. With all my life. He asked: would you follow me to death and beyond? I said I would. Always."_

_"He took my hand, pulled me into his arms and kissed me. He was trying to be strong, but I knew he was scared. Not for our sake."_

_"Raji and J'Ziir. The Eye has to protect them. I feel so weak now, like all the life left in me is gone. Passed on to them. To protect them we gave up everything."_

_"Because tomorrow..."_

_"...tomorrow we will die."_


	47. Chapter 47

**47.**

Brynjolf sat in the Ragged Flagon. Vekel passed him an ale and he chucked it down. He looked around, saw all the familiar faces. People who remained even when things weren't that good. And they hadn't been good in years. This was his family now. The Guild was his livelihood, thieving was his passion. Whether it was gold, jewels or women's virtues. He stole them all and was good at it. For years he hadn't thought about his "other" family but now he was face to face with them. Or what was left of them. Why do you bother? he asked himself. You should be thinking about the Guild and its problems, not something that's long dead and buried. Despite his better judgment which told him to take J'Ziir's gold and let sleeping dogs lie, he talked to Delvin and asked him to dig up some information. The bald man shrugged and smiled. Then he reached out his hand and Brynjolf passed him half the gold. That was three days ago. And here he was now, waiting. And he was a little too impatient. He told himself that he didn't care, this was just a job for someone else. Treat it like any other job. But as Delvin walked into the Flagon, he almost jumped out of his chair. Delvin glanced at him but he didn't smile. Not good news, Brynjolf guessed.

"So, what can you tell me?" Brynjolf nodded his head to Vekel who passed another ale to him and one for Delvin.

"I can tell you to stop," Delvin mumbled. "Simple as that."

"Why?" Brynjolf turned to him.

"It's not healthy," Delvin drank his ale. "Wherever I look, Maven's name is written all over this thing. Let it go."

"Maven?" Brynjolf repeated. Delvin was right. There was no point digging through this. The Guild was in Maven's pocket, Riften ate from her palm. She owned everything, her influence touched everyone. And all the people who tried to act against her were dead and buried.

"Shouldn't you concentrate on Guild instead?" Delvin asked. "I guess Falmer Blood elixir isn't that famous after all. What about that protégé of yours? She seems promising. Done some jobs I gave her, clean and simple. She's got a good head on her shoulders."

Brynjolf stared at the flames. Delvin was right. Aura had potential. The Imperial was able to grab gold wherever she went. And not just gold. Diamonds and other precious gems often found their way into her pockets. The only thing that slightly bothered him was that lumbering bodyguard of hers. But they both did good work for the Guild and Brynjolf had no complaints. Yes. Maven was too much. Too big of an enemy to go against. And he had to stay loyal. This family was more important than the dead one. He turned to Delvin. "Whatever you found out, keep it to yourself. And don't dig deeper."

"You bet I won't," Delvin assured him.

Brynjolf stood up, left the Flagon and walked to the Cistern. He wasn't going to betray the Guild. That's what he told himself when he climbed the ladder up to the hidden entry. Half an hour later he left Riften and walked the lakeshore back to the small camp he had left during the night. It was early morning, the dawn was just breaking. The air was surprisingly cool and brisk and the sky was bright and cloudless. The lake gathered a small fog during the night and when the sun began to rise, he had to stop. He couldn't take another step. His dead family was forcing its way into his mind.  _Tears of the sun._ That's what he saw. The perfect water droplets in front of the blazing, orange ball. He hadn't forgotten, he had just refused to think about it. And now, like a cruel slap to his face, this sight, this incredibly beautiful, tormenting sight, was forced before his eyes.

He stood there, motionless. Then he shook his head, chuckled and pulled himself out of the gutter. He knew what J'Ziir was now. His "brother" had no mercy. If need be that "brother" would kill him as well. If he happened to stand in J'Ziir's way the Khajiit wouldn't hesitate. And he already stood in the path of his poisonous revenge. Death didn't scare him. He already lived every day like it was his last. He knew Skyrim, that old maid was far from virtuous. So why should he be?

There was only Lydia in the camp when he arrived. She was up and about and seemed awfully happy. She even smiled at him. This woman was completely different than the pouting housecarl he talked to last night.

"What makes you so happy, lass?" Brynjolf asked.

"I had a wonderful dream," Lydia hummed. "J'Ziir came to me and looked over me throughout the night. And his eyes...they were beautiful. Filled with emotions that I have never seen before."

"Are you sure it was a dream?" Brynjolf smirked.

"Had to be," Lydia assured him. "He wouldn't look after me. And he definitely wouldn't look at me like that."

"Like what?" he sat down and grabbed something to eat. Lydia made some breakfast and he wasn't coy when it came to food.

"Like...like he loved me," Lydia explained. "Yes, like he really loved me. Like there was no one else on this world, just the two of us."

"You are right," Brynjolf grinned. "A man like him doesn't know how to love."

"And I guess you know how to love too many women at the same time," Lydia snapped at him. "That's why I don't trust you."

"You barely know me, lass," Brynjolf moved closer and Lydia backed away.

"I've seen men like you before," Lydia said sternly. "In Whiterun, Vilkas's brother is like your twin. Every night with a different woman. And with many at the same time."

"I haven't had a woman in a long time," Brynjolf suddenly grabbed her hand and pulled her closer. His lips were mere inches away from hers. He smelled like leather. And sewage.

"And I had a real man not too long ago," Lydia pushed him away. "And he is the only man I want. You should wash more often. That stink alone is enough to repel any potential mates."

Brynjolf laughed. He didn't remember when he had this much fun. J'Ziir's housecarl was something else. He enjoyed teasing her. And if J'Ziir let such a woman slip out of his fingers, Brynjolf wouldn't miss his chance. But that was not his ultimate goal. A plan was beginning to form in his brain. Something that would awaken his lost brother out his slumber and throw him straight into this world.

"Where's Raji?" he finally asked and began to wonder the whereabouts of his sister.

"I don't know," Lydia answered. "Sura and Vilkas are in love. I think they deserve some time alone. I guess you don't even know what happened."

"Why? What happened?" Brynjolf asked.

Lydia considered her options. She didn't really have the right to tell him, but Sura was part of his family, in a way. So she opened her mouth and told him everything. It took a long time and by the time she was finished, the morning had passed and the afternoon sun was high upon the sky. Brynjolf didn't interrupt her once during the whole story, but his expressions said more than words. Lydia actually felt sorry for him. She moved next to him and placed her hand gently on his.

"She's not hurting anymore," she assured him. "I think being together with Vilkas is good for her. His love has cured her, helped her to overcome her fears."

"I'm not surprised," Brynjolf said." For her to choose a man like him. He seems patient. Like her father. He was the kindest man I knew."

"J'Ziir never speaks about his family," Lydia sighed. "I wish he would. I'd like to know more about them."

"What do you want to know?" Brynjolf glanced at her.

"Well, what can you tell me?" Lydia smiled.

"A lot," Brynjolf grinned.

He hadn't returned to those memories in years. And now they all flooded back to his mind so easily. He remembered and he talked. His voice flowed over Lydia like a gentle stream and she saw little J'Ziir with his family, happy and innocent. She sank into those images and she felt like she was there. Meeting his parents, his kind father and his mother, who was protective, loving but sometimes a little too strict. She didn't notice when Brynjolf stopped talking. He was looking at her, his eyes traveled from her eyes to her lips. Slowly he wrapped his hand around her and pulled her closer. Lydia's heart skipped a beat. She closed her eyes and didn't resist when his lips touched hers, first very slowly and gently. When he deepened the kiss her mind went blank. He was a good kisser, even if he did smell like he just crawled out of a skeever den. His soft tongue touched her lips and asked for a permission to enter, to touch her deeper. When his hand began to travel down her body, she opened her eyes wide and pulled back.

"No, Brynjolf," Lydia panted. "This is not right."

"What are you talking about?" Brynjolf smiled. "You enjoyed it, as much as I did."

"I won't deny that," Lydia admitted. "But I can't betray J'Ziir."

"He's not here," Brynjolf waived around. "He left you behind."

"He will return," Lydia said, stood up and moved away from him. "I know he will. He's been alone all his life. Suffered enough. He's been betrayed so many times. I don't want to be one of those people. I want to be there, stay by his side. Help him."

"You love him?" Brynjolf asked.

"Maybe…yes…I think so," Lydia said. "And if you have any respect for that, you won't do this again."

"Very well," Brynjolf gave up. Exactly as he thought. Lydia wasn't easy but if she really loved J'Ziir, she shouldn't be. "I'll let you be. But when he returns, I'm sure you will also see how much he really " _cares_ " for you."

"And what about you? Do you really care for me?" Lydia shook her head. "Or do you just want me because you can't have me?"

_I don't want you. I want him to see what he is missing_. Brynjolf was sure that J'Ziir was somewhere near and witnessed everything that happened. And was probably boiling in his own rage. He smiled at Lydia and nonchalantly walked away from the camp. His steps took him back towards Riften and he was nearly there when a courier stopped him. At first, he thought the message was from the Guild, Mercer maybe. But when he opened it, a cocky smile rose to his face. Exactly the kind of answer he'd been expecting.

_"I told you to stay away from her!"_

"No lad," he smiled, crumbled the message and tossed it over his shoulder. "You only told me to keep my eyes off her. Not my hands."


	48. Chapter 48

**48.**

Silently they walked side by side. Sura hadn't said a word since they left Namada's secret hideout. She didn't take anything with her, not even the book which pulled her in like a moth to a flame. She locked everything else outside of her and sat there for hours. Vilkas didn't want to disturb her so he explored the other parts of the small chamber. All the food was rotten and spoiled but there were some strange potions he didn't dare to touch. An alchemy table sat in one corner and its drawers held items he had never seen. None of the plants or the insects were native to Skyrim.

He browsed the countless books that were placed on the shelves and found treasures that he never knew existed. Even the books in this place were rare and expensive. It was sad to see that most of them were destroyed by the wind and the water. Sura's mother had definitely been something else. He was willing to bet that she was a thief, a master one at that. In one of the strongboxes, he managed to find some jewelry that belonged to the nobles in Solitude. Some even had engravings in them. Blue Palace. To sneak in and out of there, one had to be skilled.

As they now walked back towards the camp Vilkas wasn't sure what he could and should say. He didn't know how to pull Sura out of that icy silence that sometimes took over her. It seemed that the more they discovered, her new found happiness and that beautiful smile of hers began to fade more and more. And Vilkas didn't like that. He wanted to see her smile, even if the circumstances weren't always what they wanted them to be. He grabbed her hand and they stopped by the lakeside. The sun was high up in the sky and it was a beautiful autumn day. The wind carried a fishy smell from the lake but it didn't ruin the perfection of this moment. Few birds flew by them, together like they were.

"Wouldn't it be nice if we could just stand here like this for the rest of our lives?" Sura sighed and leaned against him. "Not a care in the world."

"Are you alright?" Vilkas asked and wrapped his hand around her shoulder. "It seems that your mother had quite a lot to say."

"Not to me exactly," Sura shrugged. "But I think I have a faint idea of what she was."

"And what's that?" Vilkas didn't know did she want to tell him but he asked anyway.

"A thief," Sura replied. "And a murderer. A cynical person. Like J'Ziir is now. But my father's love somewhat cured her. Helped her overcome her fears and her despair. I believe she lost someone important. Before they came to Skyrim."

"Whatever she was, I'm grateful to her," Vilkas said.

"What do you mean?" Sura looked up at him. "You didn't even know her."

"For me, it's enough that she gave birth to you and brought you into this world," Vilkas caressed her cheek. "For me to find. And didn't she tell you that someone was waiting for you? She knew everything so much better than we did. And she helped us. That's why I don't understand why you were so afraid."

"I wasn't afraid of her," Sura explained. "I think I was afraid that I would lose her in some way again. Find something awful about her that would make me hate her instead of love her."

"And did you?" Vilkas asked.

"No," Sura shook her head. "I still love her. But now I can also understand her a bit better."

"That's good," Vilkas smiled to her.

Sura wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest. He was wearing his armor so she couldn't hear his heartbeat. But she knew it was there, underneath this cold metal, beating strong and solid. She wasn't alone in this. He was by her side and she wanted to believe that he would always be here. She smiled to herself and closed her eyes. This was her safe place, a shelter from the storm that raged around her. She didn't notice how he reached inside his armor. He held the rings in his palm and made his decision.

"Marry me," he whispered into her ear.

Sura opened her eyes and the first thing she saw were the two beautiful rings that he held out to her. She stared at them and swallowed. She didn't know where he got the rings but like Vilkas she recognized Eorlund's handwork. Both rings were made from silver. The other one had a thin sapphire band circling it. The other was decorated with dark ebony stripes. They were both unique and the only ones in this world.

"Marry me," Vilkas turned her towards him and smiled. "There is no way I can live without you. Whatever happens, I want you to know that I will be here. And whenever you look at this ring, you remember that you're not alone."

Sura gasped. She was suddenly on the verge of tears, but she fought them off. She trusted Vilkas and believed his words. But marriage? Did he really want to go that far? He was a Nord, a member of the Companions. Respected wherever he went. Admired by women. He could have had anyone. Anyone. And he still wanted her. Chose her. To be his wife. His companion in life.

"Stop thinking so hard," Vilkas laughed and caressed the frown away from her face.

"A marriage is a big commitment," Sura looked at him and her eyes were very serious. "We can't jump into it without considering where this might lead."

"Wherever it leads, we are together," Vilkas said. "It's our lives, isn't it? Tell me, who do you think will oppose this? Farkas? Never, he practically adores you."

"Not Farkas," Sura smiled. "But I have a brother too. I know we don't need him to accept this but I wouldn't want you and him to be mortal enemies."

"We won't be," Vilkas assured her. "Do you trust me?"

_(He asked me: do you trust me? I said I did. With all my life.)_

"I do," Sura replied. "With all my life."

"And do you remember what I said to you on that night we spend by the riverside?" Vilkas continued.

"You told me to hold on to you," Sura replied. "And that you would never leave my side."

"And I never will," he pulled her into his arms. "I never will."

_"Just hold onto me like you are doing now and I will never leave your side."_ Vilkas wouldn't lie to her. And the words he said were sincere. They came from his heart, from that strong, solid heart of his. The same heart that somehow chose her. Kept looking for her. And never gave up. Kept wanting her even when she was broken and damaged.

"Do you need more convincing?" Vilkas finally asked. "I believe there are other ways I could use but I'd rather save that for later. When it's just the two of us."

"Well, we're alone here now," Sura teased him.

"Do you know how tempting you are?" Vilkas cupped her face in his hands. "How hard it is for me to resist you?"

"Why do you keep resisting then?" Sura got up on her toes, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. His scent surrounded her and everything around them disappeared. It was just him and her and their rising passion.

"Because I feel that it's wrong if I keep pushing this," Vilkas mumbled against her lips. "I know what you went through. And I don't want you to be reminded of that."

"You could never wrong me," Sura pressed her forehead against his. "And your touch doesn't hurt me."

"I love you," Vilkas whispered. "I want you to be my wife. I don't care what other people say. I will defend you and this love until death. Even if I have to take a few rounds against that head-strong brother of yours."

"You'd actually do that?" Sura giggled. "Go against the Dragonborn just to have me?"

"Dragonborn or not," Vilkas shrugged. "If he wants to beat me to a pulp he can try his best."

"If he tried that, I would have to roast his behind," Sura assured him. "Dragonborn or not."

Vilkas burst out laughing. He couldn't get rid of the images in his head. Thinking about his gentle and warm Sura blasting fireballs towards the cynical and obstinate Dragonborn. That's a battle he wouldn't want to miss. Not necessarily take part in it, just watching would be interesting. He wondered would J'Ziir actually attack his own sister or would he just take it like a man. No, he thought. J'Ziir would stand it and not even flinch.

"Yes," Sura said in a small, quiet voice. She didn't look in his eyes and her face was cast down. Vilkas had never seen a Khajiit blush but he was sure he could see a slight redness rise on her cheeks.

"What?" Vilkas asked even though he heard clearly what she said. "Could you repeat that? My ears aren't as sharp as they used to."

"You're a werewolf," Sura rolled her eyes. "That attitude doesn't work on me."

Vilkas smiled. Those were the exact same words that Sura used on J'Ziir. She was beginning to realize how to rule the men in her family. Vilkas was sure that a girl she easily wrapped her father, J'Ziir and even Brynjolf around her little finger. Laughter bubbled in his chest but he kept it inside. Her eyes warned against it. Laughing right now would cost him the right answer. And he desperately wanted to hear it again.

"Apparently not," he replied. With the same exact words that J'Ziir used.

Sura sighed. The atmosphere had been so romantic and perfect and then J'Ziir had somehow joined the conversation. Even when he wasn't here he had an effect on all of them. And suddenly Sura hoped that he hadn't left at all. That now, when she would accept Vilkas's proposal, he would be here. Would he even attend their wedding? Would he just walk away from her life? Not being able to accept that she married a Nord? No, Sura thought. J'Ziir cared for Lydia and she believed his strong attitude and suspicions were weakening.

"You're thinking too hard again," Vilkas kissed her forehead.

"I know," Sura admitted. "I shouldn't. Just tell me what I should say and I'll say it. It's easier that way."

"Repeat after me then," Vilkas smiled and took her hands into his. "I love you."

"I love you," Sura looked straight into his eyes.

"I will spend the rest of my life by your side," Vilkas continued and Sura followed his lead by saying every word after him. Soon enough it was like they were talking in the same rhythm as they knew these words by memory.

"Whatever happens," Vilkas said. "We'll be together."

"Yes," Sura nodded. "And I will be your wife if you want me to."

They embraced each other in the bright light of the autumn day. The colored leaves fell from the trees and only the wind whispered around them. Some distance away two transparent figures stood and watched them. They were both smiling. And as the gentle breeze lifted the dried leaves in the air, the figures disappeared. Only a nightingale sang in the distance.


	49. Chapter 49

**49.**

It all began in a very weird way. First Ingun Black-Briar went missing. A week later she was found dead in the canal that flowed through Riften. Her throat was slit but she had no other wounds or cuts in her body. Nothing was stolen from her. And no one saw anything. A few days later Sibbi Black-Briar was found dead in his prison cell. Every bone in his body was broken. He was smashed against the stone wall with massive force and the impact crushed his skull. The wall had several cracks and a few massive holes. And even when the prison was filled with guards, no one could identify the murderer.

Maven went berserk and Riften was closed off. The gates were shut tight and everyone who entered the city was searched. The Black-Briar mansion was now guarded by the city guard that the Jarl herself had appointed. The streets of Riften were filled with whispers and rumors. Everyone was amazed. Maven talked about revenge and a terrible fate for those who dared to defy or threaten her and her family. Brynjolf felt the effects in the Guild. Everything was halted. No one was allowed to go in or out of the city. Mercer cursed their bad luck and offered his help to Maven. Only Brynjolf had a pretty good idea who behind this madness.

_J'Ziir was back._

But even he didn't know where that accursed Khajiit was hiding. And how the cat managed to walk in and out of the city without anyone knowing. Things went from bad to worse. After Sibbi's death, Hemming Black-Briar narrowly escaped death, or so everyone thought. A sharp, poisoned ebony arrow struck the wall next to his head when he was sleeping in his own bedroom. When Brynjolf heard about it he knew it was not an accident. J'Ziir wasn't that careless. There was something else going on. As the days passed and nothing was solved, Brynjolf decided to confront Sura. If anyone knew where J'Ziir was, it had to be her. Leaving the city was not a problem for him. He ran from Riften several times during his youth and climbing over the wall like a silent shadow caused no trouble for him.

The camp was still in the same place, not too far from the city, on the other side of the lake. Near the ruins of the old house. As Brynjolf strolled forward he heard a sudden noise from his left side. His instincts kicked in. A sharp dagger came whistling towards him and he barely managed to dodge it. The dagger struck the birch right next to his head. It drilled itself deep into the tree trunk. Brynjolf grabbed it and turned around. He was enraged.

"What in Oblivion are you doing?" he yelled. "Are you trying to kill me now as well? Ingun and Sibbi weren't enough? I'm not even a Black-Briar!"

"You might as well be," J'Ziir's soft voice answered. Brynjolf wasn't fooled by the tone. He heard how cold and icy it was. "From the way you're licking their boots. I never thought I'd see you crawl like that."

"What did I ever do to you, lad?" Brynjolf asked and hurled the dagger to the ground. "I did what you asked, didn't I?

"You backed away," J'Ziir stepped out the forest. "And you thought that I didn't find out. Very foolish of you, "brother"."

Brynjolf faced him. Was it possible that J'Ziir grew even colder? That there was nothing underneath those blue eyes of his? Nothing but revenge and death and agony. He killed both Ingun and Sibbi and it seemed that it didn't affect him in any way. Cold-blooded like the lizards he was destined to fight.

"You were spying on me," Brynjolf crossed his arms. "You didn't trust me, did you?"

"Why should I?" J'Ziir asked. "I told you to stay away from Lydia. And how did you respond?"

"I got your message," Brynjolf smirked. "Since that day I have not laid a hand on her."

"Since that day?" J'Ziir asked softly. "The day you kissed her?"

"Oh, you saw that, didn't you?" Brynjolf's smile widened and for the first time, he saw some emotions in J'Ziir's eyes. A quick flash of anger and jealousy that disappeared as fast it appeared. "I would apologize, but I think I did nothing wrong."

"Do you think I don't know the games you play?" J'Ziir grabbed his dagger from the ground and sheathed it. "You sleep with that Imperial thief of yours and at the same time, you entertain a couple of other ladies in Riften as well. Where does Lydia fit in?"

"My my, lad," Brynjolf laughed. "You know more about my schedule than I do. Can you tell me when I'm supposed to meet my next...lady friend?"

"I'd be very careful if I were you," J'Ziir sneered. "Jokes aren't going to save you if you keep siding with those people."

"What do you expect me to do?" Brynjolf spread his arms. "You know what Maven Black-Briar is. She rules Riften."

"She a human, easily killed," J'Ziir said calmly.

"You already killed Ingun and Sibbi," Brynjolf tried to reason with him. "And that arrow you sent to Hemming nearly caused him to have a heart attack."

"He is still breathing, isn't he?" J'Ziir rolled his eyes. "Not for long, though."

"How did you manage to kill Sibbi like that?" Brynjolf was curious. "Even you're not that strong. Breaking a stone wall into a fine dust...?"

"Being the Dragonborn has its uses," J'Ziir answered but didn't explain any further.

"Why the Black-Briars?" Brynjolf finally asked.

"If you didn't stop halfway, you'd know the answer," J'Ziir glared at him.

"I know what they did," Brynjolf replied. "I didn't back away, J'Ziir. But when I found out that Maven was at least partly responsible for the death of our family..."

"My family," J'Ziir growled and grabbed him by the collar. "You were never part of it. Why act like you care when you obviously don't? Even now aren't you trying to save Maven Black-Briar and her last remaining offspring?"

"It's not that simple," Brynjolf pushed him away.

"It is to me," J'Ziir said. "They were part of it. So they will die."

"Maven is not powerless," Brynjolf explained. "Like you gained information, do you think she won't? And when she finds out that Raji and Lydia are close to Riften and somehow related to you..."

"They have the wolf," J'Ziir answered.

"Oh, so you trust him now? "Brynjolf felt insulted.

"More than you," J'Ziir frowned. "And Raji is not weak. Lydia...well...she is what she is. I can't protect her."

"You know," Brynjolf smiled. "She told me about that dream of hers. That you were there, watching her the whole night. It wasn't a dream, was it?"

J'Ziir cleared his throat and Brynjolf saw the truth from his eyes. He burst out laughing. Poor boy, he thought. Head over heels but still deep in denial. J'Ziir wasn't amused and Brynjolf's loud laughter annoyed him.

"Leave Lydia out of this," J'Ziir ordered. "She is nothing to you but a plaything."

"Is she any more than that to you then?" Brynjolf confronted him. "She told me she loves you."

J'Ziir flinched. His tail began to swing and back and forth. That was the only sign that told Brynjolf that he was nervous. Love was something J'Ziir didn't understand. It was something he didn't want to face. Loving someone only meant that you were weak, that there were people who could be exploited and threatened. Loving someone was dangerous.

"I heard it," J'Ziir said. "It means nothing to me."

"So you don't love her back?" Brynjolf grabbed his shoulder. "Then why do you care what I do with her?"

"I don't," J'Ziir pulled himself free. "Fine! Make her one of your sewer whores if you want. I know where my loyalties lie. With my family. And neither you or she is part of that."

"Sewer whore?" Brynjolf sighed and shook his head. "How nice of you to call her that. When she's done nothing but longed after you. When the only thing she sees is you."

Brynjolf didn't know did his words carry any weight. But Lydia was clearly a touchy subject to J'Ziir. And after seeing how she missed him, he at least felt obligated to defend her and rectify any misunderstanding that J'Ziir might have. If J'Ziir would return to Lydia in this state, Brynjolf knew he would be partly responsible. And Lydia was a nice lady. Brynjolf respected his ladies.

"She's delusional," J'Ziir finally managed to say. "She thinks she loves me. But it's only her duty to follow me. And she takes that too seriously. And maybe she even feels pity for me. And confuses that with..."

"Listen to yourself, lad!" Brynjolf interrupted him. "Excuses one after another. Isn't it time for you to wake up and see what's in front of you?"

"I could say the same to you," J'Ziir smiled but once again his smile sent shivers down Brynjof's spine. "It's time for you to make a choice. Be with me or against me. And since you haven't exposed me thus far, you aren't as loyal to that family of yours as you pretend to be."

"What are you going to do?" Brynjolf frowned.

"I won't bore you with the details," J'Ziir sneered. "But your precious Maven is running out of time. Very quickly. If I see you talking to her or to any of her henchmen, I assume you've chosen your side. And then...you and I share nothing. And when I kill you, you're just another Nord that met his fate in my hands."

"How dramatic," Brynjolf rolled his eyes. "I'll be expecting that day. You won't get rid of me so easily, lad."

"We'll see," J'Ziir glanced at him one last time. Then he turned and headed back to the forest. On the edge of tree line, he stopped. His tail swung back and forth, back and forth, like he was considering something. He took one step forward and stopped again. Then he finally faced Brynjolf. The Nord was curious to know what was this important.

"If I were you, I wouldn't trust that Guild Master of yours," J'Ziir said.

"What?" Brynjolf was confused.

"See, there's a lot you don't know," J'Ziir chuckled. "But I'm giving you free advice. And a chance, Brynjolf. One chance. It's up to you now to decide will we stay as brothers or shall we become enemies."

"Would you really kill me in cold blood?" Brynjolf asked.

"Yes," J'Ziir didn't hesitate. "Give me a reason and I will."


	50. Chapter 50

**50.**

Lydia was bored. They had stayed in the Rift for weeks now. J'Ziir was still missing. She wasn't sure should she go looking for him or stay with Sura and Vilkas. But she didn't know where he was now. Surely his journey to High Hrothgar had ended. But there were no guarantees where he went from there. He could be anywhere in Skyrim, with anyone. She missed J'Ziir. Despite everything, she missed him. And the tormenting thoughts of him being with several different women caused her endless misery.

It was late afternoon when she left the camp. She began to practice with swords and with bows whenever she had the chance. The Dragonborn surely deserved the best housecarl he could get. She usually practiced for hours until she was covered in sweat and gasping for air. But it was the only way to get rid of her confusing speculations. She was starting to feel that this demanding work paid off. Her hands became steadier. Her arms gained strength. She was beginning to move faster and her strikes were exact and accurate. The first time she shot all ten arrows in the middle of the target she jumped out of joy and giggled by herself. But there was no one else laughing with her, no one shared her joy. And so she began to ignore her accomplishment. A week later she shot twenty arrows in the middle of the target and the distance was twice as long. But this time she didn't laugh. She didn't even smile.

This afternoon wasn't any different. She began with her sword and her shield. She wasn't motivated but kept going. She noticed that moving around suppressed her thoughts and made it easier to not think about J'Ziir. After a couple of hours, she grabbed her bow and arrow, measured the distance from her target and shot nearly forty arrows straight into the middle. Her hands never trembled. With each arrow, she imagined sending away a small piece of her pain and her misery. And shooting them all straight into J'Ziir. She hoped he knew how miserable he made her feel.

The sun was beginning to set when she gathered her weapons. She wiped her forehead and face and felt the sweat trickle down her body underneath her armor. This clearing was sheltered by large trees and it felt isolated even when it wasn't that far from their small camp. She grabbed the soft deer pelt she usually carried around with her and walked to the riverside. This had become her usual bathing spot and she always felt somehow secure in here. No one ever stumbled upon her while she was bathing.

She removed her steel armor and stripped off the sweaty clothes. When the wind brushed her body she got goosebumps all over. But the water was warm and felt good on her naked skin. She waded into the waves and dived beneath the surface. After a few seconds, she rose to the surface and wiped the wet hair off her face. Lydia enjoyed swimming. When she was underneath the surface, all the voices quieted down. The tormenting beat of her own heart, the desperate woman in love, the angry and worried housecarl, and the enraged jealous old hag. The water was like a soft mattress around her that soothed her and calmed her down. She turned her face toward the sky, spread her arms and legs and allowed the water to carry her.

And then something sharp and painful grabbed her ankle and pulled her underneath. She didn't even have time to scream, it all happened too fast. The water around her became red and she tried her best to get rid of the attacker that constantly pulled and tore on her leg. As soon as she disappeared underneath the waves, a dark shadow dashed from the woods, ran quickly over the field and dove into the water. A sharp dagger glimmered in the dying light of the sun and with one precise strike the attacking slaughterfish was dead. Its sharp jaws were still squeezed around Lydia's ankle.

She broke the surface gasping for air. She couldn't see her savior, she was having enough difficulties with breathing. And now her left foot throbbed with pain and she cried out. The small rocks in the shore seemed to be so far away. She tried to swim forward but her leg was too torn up. It was still gushing blood and she was getting nauseous seeing how the river carried the red flood downstream. She felt how a pair of strong arms lifted her up and carried her to the shore. She was placed on a big rock, the soft deer belt was wrapped around her and then her savior knelt before her and began inspecting her leg. He pulled out the dead jaws of the fish and tossed it back to the river. She had never been so happy in her life. Even in this miserable state of hers, she was so happy to see him. Her black furred savior, her very own Thane had returned to her.

"Do you have any potions with you?" J'Ziir asked. All Lydia could do was shake her head. "Of course not, what was I thinking. A silly woman like you..."

He stood up, walked to the edge of the forest and came back with his knapsack. A few seconds later he gave her two large bottles and ordered her to drink them. She didn't dare to defy him and dutifully he chucked them both down. He watched as the large, bloody cuts in her ankle began to heal. And as the blood flow slowly died out, his beating heart also began to calm down.

"What were you thinking?" he glared at her. "Shouldn't you be prepared for something like this?"

If she ever had any doubts that this was not her J'Ziir, those rude words and that angry look dispelled any suspicions. And now that her leg was no longer in pain she also began to think more clearly.

"I can take care of myself," Lydia pulled her foot out of his hands.

"Yes, like right now," J'Ziir sighed. "I can see that. If I hadn't been here, you'd be dead by now."

"Why exactly are you here?" Lydia asked. "Wait a minute...w...were you spying on me? Staring at me like some weird sick person while I bathed?"

"I was keeping watch," J'Ziir cleared his throat and stood up. "You're lucky this was the first time I had to help."

"First time?" Lydia stood up and the deer belt almost slid off her. She grabbed in the last second and squeezed it around her. "You mean...all this time...you've been watching me...?"

"Put some clothes on," J'Ziir muttered under his breath.

He turned away from her and walked to the field where she usually practiced. He grabbed her bow and inspected it. Old, crappy, useless thing. He broke it in half and tossed the pieces away. He heard Lydia gasp behind him. From the way she stomped towards him, he knew she was furious.

"My bow!" she screamed. "What are you doing?"

"You don't need that worthless old thing," J'Ziir said. "Here, use this from now on," he handed her a beautifully carved elven bow. She blinked her eyes and wasn't quite sure how to take this unexpected gift.

"Th..thank you?" Lydia took the bow and tested it.

She was surprised at how rigid the spring was. But after a couple of tries, she began to like this bow more and more. It was like custom made to fit in her hand and the first arrows she shot flew a perfectly across the field. They hit the edges of the target and when she aimed again, J'Ziir lifted her hand slightly upwards and this time the arrows struck where it was meant to. She turned to him and smiled. Her hair was still damp but her face was bright and her eyes were clear. The green orbs were glowing with joy. She hadn't put on her armor and he could clearly see the shapes of her breasts underneath her thin shirt. J'Ziir swallowed and backed away. This was not the reason he came back. Lydia could not be his reason.

"So, did you enjoy watching me naked?" Lydia teased him. She was curious to know the answer. "It's not like you haven't seen it before. Do you remember something now? Or did you just need a reminder?"

"I wouldn't care if you walked around naked all the time," J'Ziir said but he still wouldn't face her. "Speaking of which...I need you to distract someone."

"Distract?" Lydia asked. "And how am I supposed to do that?"

"Be a woman," J'Ziir finally turned to look at her. His eyes traveled down her body and when they reached her breasts, they stopped there. "Use your feminine charms. Like with Brynjolf."

"You...saw that?" Lydia stuttered. "I...he kissed me. And. Yes...I...moment..arily returned his kiss...but...! Why do I need to defend myself to you? I don't owe you any explanations. You left me behind, didn't you? Tell me, how many women did you conquer during this time?"

"Too many to keep count," J'Ziir replied and Lydia frowned. "While you " _practiced_ " with Brynjolf."

"He's is like ten men packed into one neat package," Lydia smiled.

"And he smells like sewage, doesn't he?" J'Ziir sneered. "Kissing him must have been memorable. Hope you didn't catch any weird diseases from him."

"At least he didn't poison me," Lydia snapped back. "Unlike someone I know."

"Wait," J'Ziir grasped her hand. "It affected you?"

"So what if it did?" Lydia asked but didn't pull away. "If it caused me pain, would you care?"

"I...you seem to be fine now," J'Ziir said and released her hand. "Nothing serious then, I assume."

"I could be dead and beheaded and you'd still say that it's nothing serious, right?" Lydia sighed. "What am I expecting? Warmth from a man like you?"

J'Ziir watched her. He felt strange, he wasn't sure what to say or think. Ever since he came back to Riften all he wanted to do was look at Lydia. That night when she was left alone in the camp, he spent the entire time next to her. Just watching. And trying to understand the reason why he was pulled to her, over and over again. He knew Lydia had feelings for him but he had done nothing to encourage those emotions. If anything he always tried to push her away the best he could. And he knew he should have pushed her away during that night in Whiterun as well.

"Who's this man you need distracted, my Thane?" Lydia finally asked. "And what do you need me to do?"

"As I said, use your...assets," J'Ziir glanced at her breasts. "His name is Maul. He's a big guy, a brainless brute. All you need to do is draw him away from his post for a few minutes. Just be careful."

"Why?" Lydia asked.

"For your own sake," J'Ziir said. "He might get a little too excited if you show him too much."

"I mean why do you need me to distract him?" Lydia rolled her eyes.

"Haven't you heard?" J'Ziir asked. "The Black-Briar's. Sibbi and Ingun are dead. Hemming will soon be too. But Maven...she doesn't deserve a quick death."

"You are behind this?" Lydia touched his shoulder. "Don't you know that everyone in Riften is looking for you? How dangerous this is?"

"No one is looking for me," J'Ziir said. "Since they don't know the culprit."

"But...if they find out," Lydia began to panic. "If they do...they will hunt you down...kill you...I...I can't let them do that. I won't...I..."

"Are you worried for me?" J'Ziir was slightly amused. Her hands gripped his arm and he almost smiled.

"Yes!" Lydia yelled. "I mean...you're my Thane...I'm your housecarl…and my duty is to protect you. And if I don't know where you are, how can I carry out my duty?"

"Just do what I ask and everything will be fine," J'Ziir assured her.

"But...she's a powerful woman, J'Ziir," Lydia pleaded. "Please, please don't do this."

"You want me to fight dragons and be the hero of Skyrim," J'Ziir grinned. "And now you ask me not to kill one person? Which is more dangerous, Lydia?"

"She is," Lydia said. "With dragons...you know how they react and you can almost predict their movements. They don't plot or conspire. But Maven Black-Briar...she's worse..."

"I don't care," J'Ziir answered. "She dies. With or without your help. With your help, it will be easier. Without it...I can manage."

"I will help you," Lydia agreed and refused to let go of him. "I won't abandon you, J'Ziir."

Those words sunk deep. There was actually someone who stood by him. Suddenly he had the weirdest urge to pull Lydia into his arms and kiss her. He was usually able to resist such sudden impulses and he believed this time would be no different. But then his brain refused to listen to him. Instead, his frozen heart burst into life and took control. He saw Brynjolf pull Lydia closer and lean in. And he remembered his own powerless rage.

_Regain control!_ A small voice shouted somewhere inside his head but something else, something more compelling forced him into action. He saw Lydia's eyes widen as he scooped her into his arms. She didn't even have time to breathe when the sudden storm of passion, affection, anger, jealousy, and fury swept her off her feet. His lips conquered hers, demanding, suffocating and hard. She didn't think, her body responded on its own and she practically melted in his arms. Her hands cupped his face and gently she softened the kiss, accepted his furious assault and pressed herself deeper into his embrace.

He lost himself in her. J'Ziir hadn't thought that having her here in his arms could be this perfect. During this silent moment, everything in him was in complete balance. His revenge felt so meaningless compared to this moment. Being the Dragonborn and saving Skyrim was nothing without this woman by his side.

"J'Ziir," Lydia whispered against his lips. "You came back to me. You did..."

"I came back," he said. He couldn't say more and Lydia's lips captured his once more. Silently he thanked her for not demanding any more than this from him.


	51. Chapter 51

**51.**

As Maven Black-Briar's last child died, Riften went crazy. Hemming was found in the corridors of the Ratway. His eyeballs were eaten by the skeevers. He was killed by a single, poisoned ebony arrow that was aimed straight at his heart. He didn't stand a chance. Brynjolf knew but kept quiet. He was still considering and weighing his options. And at the same time, he silently began to dig the past. Mercer's past. The search for the killer went on for days and ended weeks later without any results.

Maven threatened everyone. With the Imperials, with the Thieves Guild, even with the Dark Brotherhood. She held Riften in her iron grip and squeezed tighter every day. As Lydia entered the city a few days later, she knew everyone was watching her. She was trying her best to look normal and not draw any attention to herself but despite that, the city guards called her in for questioning. J'Ziir had warned her that it would happen and he had provided her with answers. Lydia memorized them all. And as the guards asked their questions she didn't slip even once. Eventually, she was released and considered to be a harmless sellsword looking for potential job opportunities. Exactly as J'Ziir had predicted.

As she walked towards the Bee and the Barb, she noticed the Nord J'Ziir mentioned. A big brute of a man, wearing a steel armor and looking at her menacingly. Not exactly the friendliest of people, Lydia gathered but flashed a radiant smile towards him. She knew the time wasn't right but that didn't stop her from softening her prey. It might be easier later on if she began right away. She didn't stop to see if Maul reacted in any way but that was part of her strategy. Push and pull. A little hint there and a seductive smile here. This was the first time she tried to be confident and attractive to someone and she was having a surprisingly good time.

She booked a room from the Inn and settled down. J'Ziir told her to stay within the city for at least a week so that people would get accustomed to her presence. So when Maven would disappear, she wouldn't be the first suspect. She took her armor off and put on a comfortable cotton dress. Then she brushed her hair and walked downstairs to have some dinner. When she sat down she noticed Maul on the other side of the room. And this time he wasn't glaring at her but watching her. Lydia recognized that look as any woman would. It was a stare of a man who showed interest.

She ignored him and ordered some food. J'Ziir had given her plenty of gold so spending some wasn't a problem. So far she was having a good time and she kept smiling. After three bottles of ale, the Argonian Innkeeper placed a small note in front of her. At first, she thought it was from Maul and was happy that she was making progress so fast.

_"Stop drinking so much. You're attracting unwanted attention!"_

J'Ziir had written the note quickly and she was barely able to read his handwriting. She glanced around but knew she couldn't spot him. Her Thane was master at disguising himself. Lydia tossed the note to the fireplace, paid for her food and walked back upstairs. She wasn't exactly sure how to proceed.

No one disturbed her during the night. The following days passed by calmly. She knew the exact time when she was supposed to "distract" Maul but she was still considering the perfect method. Going in too strong would cause suspicion. But watching from the sidelines wouldn't help either. And she certainly didn't want to excite the man too much, that would cause troubles and they might get caught. She didn't know how J'Ziir planned to grab Maven and get out of the city with her unconscious body but the Khajiit was cunning. Lydia knew he had a plan and if she played her part, everything should go smoothly. He would probably succeed even if she failed miserably. He never placed his eggs in just one basket.

She met Brynjolf on the Market a couple of days before the trap was about to go off. He was standing there in fine clothes and selling some strange liquid. He noticed her but didn't greet her. Lydia understood the reasons. The guards were looking for anything suspicious. And if she and Brynjolf suddenly began to chat away like old friends, that wouldn't remain unnoticed. She joined the small crowd that was listening to him and suddenly she felt a big hand press against her back. She didn't turn but saw from the corner of her eye that it was indeed the Nord that she was meant to distract. Relax, she told herself even when heavy hand traveled up her back and then down again. She almost swung around and slapped him in his face. But that would have ruined everything so she remained calm. When Brynjolf finished his speech, Lydia was finally faced to face with her target. She felt disgusted but forced a smile on her face.

They began an awkward conversation and Lydia did her best to pretend that she was interested. She tried to listen to what he said and paid special attention to his eyes. Where they wandered. Her "assets" were thoroughly inspected and she kept her composure. Cold shivers ran down her spine. She was already having a bad feeling about this. Seducing this man momentarily wouldn't be that easy. If she wasn't careful, she might end up in a very bad situation. And if that would ruin J'Ziir's plan... _no_! She thought. I will go through this as we agreed. And I will make sure that he doesn't touch where he is not allowed to touch.

She was able to get rid of Maul before the night closed in. When she walked back to her room, Brynjolf was sitting on the edge of the small table. He told her to close the door and listen to him.

"I don't know about his plan, but don't go along with it," Brynjolf whispered.

"Shouldn't you be on his side?" Lydia hissed back at him. "You two are family."

"I am on his side," Brynjolf continued. "And I'm trying my best to prevent a disaster. Maven knows. She's prepared. She is sending her men outside of Riften and plans to use Raji and that man of hers as hostages."

"How do you know this?" Lydia asked.

"Doesn't matter," Brynjolf said. "If you can contact J'Ziir, just tell him to back off and keep Raji safe. And that ridiculous seduce act against Maul isn't going to work. He is not that stupid."

"I don't know where J'Ziir is," Lydia panicked.

"Well, lass," Brynjolf walked to the door. "I tried my best. I can't do more than this."

"And if he doesn't back off, are you going to interfere?" Lydia demanded to know.

"I need to think of my family," Brynjolf replied. He left the room as silently as he arrived. Lydia didn't know which family he meant. But she was beginning to worry more and more. She paced back and forth inside her small room and then her patience ran out. She walked out of the door and was determined to find J'Ziir. The Argonian Innkeeper stopped her at the stairs and handed a note to her.

_"Brynjolf is right. Maven sent people. It was to be expected. But Raji is safe with the wolf. We stick to the plan! Tomorrow."_

His words calmed her down. She burned the note and walked back to her room. She knew that above everything else J'Ziir wanted to keep Sura safe. And apparently, he thought about everything. She trusted him and knew that Maven Black-Briar wouldn't be able to get her hands on Sura and Vilkas. But if she knows everything, Lydia thought. Doesn't she also know that I'm J'Ziir's housecarl? He didn't mention it in the note. Maybe all wasn't lost just yet.

Lydia didn't really sleep that night. She tossed and turned in her bed and waited. She was sure that she was exposed. That at any moment a bunch of guards would burst through the door and drag her to the prison. But as the morning came, she was eating breakfast at the Inn and no one bothered her. She did her best to hide her nervousness but her stomach was filled with butterflies and her hands were trembling. The day passed incredibly slowly. She walked to the Market and Brynjolf was there again. This time he didn't even look at her and Lydia passed him without a glance. She walked away from the Market and stopped at the Temple of Mara.  _Divines,_ she whispered.  _Please, help me. Keep him safe._

When the sun finally began to set, Lydia's heart was beating way too fast. But like they agreed, she walked back to the Inn and up to her room. There she removed her armor, wore a revealing dress that showed a little too much of her cleavage and tied her hair up so that the beautiful curve of her neck was exposed. She pinched her cheek and washed her face. Then she took a deep breath and left her room. If everything went according to their plan, she would be back here in less than half an hour. Then she would have time to change her clothes, grab her things and leave the city. At midnight she would meet J'Ziir at the ruins of the old house.

She walked downstairs and felt the eyes of every man rest upon her curves. She didn't care. None of these men was her target. As she left the Inn, Riften was covered in darkness. Only a few dim lights were lit and a thick fog drifted from the lake. The mist fit the plan perfectly. But it was so sudden, she had never seen anything like it before. She straightened her back and was ready to begin. A few guards walked by her when she headed towards the Black-Briar Manor. Despite the mist, she immediately recognized Maul's massive figure. He was standing in front of the main door and when he saw her, a cruel smile rose upon his face.

"You're finally here," he said. "And dressed for the occasion as well. I didn't think you'd be this brave, but the cat told me you'd play your part."

His words confused Lydia. The cat? Was he talking about J'Ziir? And if so, how did he know about their plan? The brute in front of her smiled and Lydia didn't know was she relieved or horrified to know that this man apparently wasn't her target. But if it wasn't him...then who was it?

"Oh, he forgot to mention a few details, didn't he?" Maul cackled. "I'm just playing along like you are."

Lydia heard a metallic creak behind her. A small, iron gate opened and J'Ziir's familiar figure appeared from the fog. His steps were silent but he moved fast. He didn't seem nervous at all. He even had time to stop and admire her, flash her a quick, cocky smile and then he turned to Maul. This is a game to him, Lydia's anger began to rise. That bastard had Maul in his pocket already.

"What is going on?" Lydia tucked his sleeve. "Why didn't you tell me...?"

"We'll talk later," J'Ziir pressed his finger on her lips. "Good job playing your part, housecarl."

"You should have told me," Lydia gritted her teeth.

"Yes, you were trying so hard to seduce me the whole week," Maul grinned. "I almost thought it was genuine. And it was kind of flattering."

"Let's get this over with," Lydia cursed. "Who's the man I need to "distract"?"

"It's still me," Maul grinned. "But instead of a roll in the hay, we can just pretend with did it. Make sure you remember all the juicy details when the guards ask you about them later. How big I was, how thick I was, how long I lasted, how many times I made you climax..."

"Ew!" Lydia cringed.

"J'Ziir!" Brynjolf suddenly appeared from the fog. J'Ziir mapped out his plans meticulously. Brynjolf was late only for a few seconds. "Mercer is back at the Guild," Brynjolf explained. "I called him out there, said there was an emergency. He won't be fooled for long. You only have little time, lad. Make the most of it."

"I'm surprised, Brynjolf," J'Ziir looked at him. "I was expecting a dagger in the back, not such willing cooperation."

"Just don't make me regret this!" Brynjolf hissed at him.

J'Ziir nodded. Then he turned to Lydia. "Go with Brynjolf. He will take you to Raji."

"What about you?" Lydia grabbed his hand.

"I need to take care of this," J'Ziir said and before he disappeared into the darkness, he turned to her. "Just go, Lydia. Wait for me at the ruins. At midnight."


	52. Chapter 52

**52.**

Sura stood at the shore. She did what J'Ziir asked of her. Riften was enveloped in fog. The spell she used wasn't that hard but she needed time for it. Crafting a mist that was big enough to cover the whole city required patience and concentration. Vilkas stood by her and kept watch. They both knew Maven Black-Briar's men were on their way. But Sura wasn't worried about that. She was more concerned about Lydia and her brother.

J'Ziir returned sooner than she expected. And as the killings began, she didn't have to guess who was behind all that. Her mother's journal had provided the answers for her. J'Ziir was beginning to put his plans into action. And so far, Sura wasn't going to interfere. But she would if at any point either Lydia or J'Ziir himself were in serious danger. A few days ago she visited the ruins of their old home. And noticed that something had changed. There was a hole in the ground, not far from their parent's graves. Someone had been digging there.

_"I hid the blade."_

That certain someone was no one else but J'Ziir. She had both pieces of the Eye but J'Ziir saw different things. Riddles that were meant for him. And he could solve them without the Eye. Because his purpose was different. Sura believed that Namada had shown her son where she hid her bloody blade. The same blade she once used to for her own revenge. Now she passed the blade to her son.

"Do you hear them?" Sura asked Vilkas. "Are they coming?"

"No, I hear nothing," Vilkas shook his head. "The city is so quiet. That's not a good sign."

"What if something happens to them?" Sura looked at Vilkas.

"Then we'll go and get them," Vilkas assured her. "But I think your brother knows what he is doing."

"We won't leave them behind," Sura nodded.

"Aren't we family?" Vilkas asked her and Sura smiled at him.

Yes, they were all family now. She and J'Ziir. And Vilkas was about to join them. And Sura had a feeling that sooner or later Lydia would be part of that family as well. No matter how hard those two denied their mutual affection. The only thing that worried her was Brynjolf. She didn't know what he was thinking. The Guild was important to him. And he'd been part of it for years. He considered them his family now. Sura worried that Brynjolf might change his mind and act against them. In that case, Brynjolf's fate would be sealed. And Sura didn't want to lose him. Little by little she managed to piece her family together and now she wanted to hold on to them. And the worst thing would be if her brothers, both dear and important to her, started a war of their own.

"Someone's coming," Vilkas whispered. He pulled out his sword and stood between Sura and the unknown enemy who was running towards them. Everything grew quiet. And then Sura also heard footsteps. She was able to deduce that it was only one or two people heading their way. And she couldn't imagine that Maven would settle for such a small amount. Brynjolf and Lydia appeared out of the darkness. Vilkas lowered his sword but didn't relax completely. He didn't trust the thief. Men like him had very little honor and Vilkas believed that at any moment the red-headed Nord could turn against them. It was very possible that he danced to Maven's tune. Acting like he helped them but leading them into a trap. Vilkas decided to keep his eyes on the thief.

"What happened?" Sura asked Lydia. "Where's J'Ziir?"

"Still in Riften," Lydia panted after the long run. "He told to me leave and meet him at the old ruins at midnight."

"That's what he told us as well," Sura said. Then she turned to Brynjolf. "And you? What's your part in this?"

"I'm still wondering that myself," Brynjolf smirked. "But at least I brought Lydia here and not somewhere else. Doesn't that prove something?"

"Why would you help J'Ziir kidnap Maven?" Lydia asked. "Isn't she the patron of your Guild? The "ruler" of Riften?"

"Maven is many things. I cleared his path but that doesn't mean he's going to succeed," Brynjolf said. "He just has to rely on himself now."

"He will," Sura said. "I'm sure of it."

"What is he going to do with her?" Vilkas looked at Lydia and Sura.

"Isn't it obvious?" Lydia frowned. "He killed all of Maven's children. But she is his main target. I doubt he's going to keep her alive for long. The question is...are we going allow it? Now that we know?"

"And how are we supposed to stop him exactly?" Vilkas asked. "We agreed to help. We knew his intentions."

"If he doesn't let Maven go," Lydia pleaded. "Everyone will turn against him! And then we are all doomed. We can't fight against the whole city."

"Lydia," Sura took her hands into her own. "I know you are worried. I am too. But all we can do now is to stand by him. It's too late to change any of this now. And...I agree with him. Someone has to pay. For what happened. And if this is the only way, if the laws of Skyrim can't touch these people, then...I won't stand in his way."

"You know I will support him," Lydia stated. "But..."

"We better move," Vilkas glanced at Brynjolf. "Are you coming with us or not?"

"I have other things to take care of," he grinned but it wasn't a friendly smile. "Keep my sisters safe, wolf."

They stripped the camp, gathered their things and left the shore as soon as they were ready. Vilkas leads them with Abaccus, Sura and Lydia followed him. They arrived at the ruins half an hour later. And when they got there, J'Ziir was sitting on a big rock, waiting for them. He was calm and collected like this whole thing meant nothing to him. Lydia let out a silent sigh of relief.

"Maven Black-Briar?" Vilkas asked him when they stood face to face.

"Alive," J'Ziir answered. "Tucked in a safe place. But she won't have much time."

"How did you get out of Riften?" Sura asked.

"I've made some allies," J'Ziir replied. "I don't trust Brynjolf. He is not the only pair of eyes I have in Riften."

"Are you talking about that "target" of yours?" Lydia scoffed. "You could have told me so I didn't have to waste my energy on him."

"The people of Riften needed to believe you were attracted to Maul," J'Ziir explained and Lydia shivered. "You are the reason he was not on his post tonight. That's what he will tell to the guards and later you will tell them the exact same thing. And there many people in Riften who saw the interaction between you two. And the way you were dressed tonight."

"How thoughtful of you," Lydia pouted. "To give me the part of an insignificant, loose, immoral woman."

"If not you, who then?" J'Ziir asked. "Raji? They don't let Khajiit's into the city."

"You said you made some allies," Lydia frowned. "There must be women among them."

"No Nords," J'Ziir responded and Lydia sulked.

"What's going to happen now?" Sura asked. "Did anyone see you?"

"Just Maul and Brynjolf," J'Ziir explained. "And I gave Maul enough gold to keep him quiet for several years. If he won't, he knows what's waiting for him. But as soon as people notice that Maven is gone, Riften will go insane. And because of that, you and the wolf need to leave."

"No," Sura shook her head. "We're staying."

"This will be easier for me if I know you're not in danger," J'Ziir pulled Sura aside and lowered his voice. "Could you listen to me for just this once?"

"I'm sorry," Sura refused. "I won't leave you alone. I can help, I've told you before. They were my parents as well. My family. And if I left you now, I would regret it for the rest of my days. And besides...Vilkas and I are getting married."

"Yes, I heard about that," J'Ziir rolled his eyes. "How romantic. And how appropriate to bring that up right now."

"That means that he is part of your family too," Sura nudged him. "And you need to trust him."

"I trust you," J'Ziir wasn't happy. "But him..."

"Look, you can't be here all the time looking out for me," Sura said. "And I don't need you to. So, do your thing but don't ask me to leave."

"Fine," J'Ziir glared at Vilkas. "But he's dead if something happens to you."

"Just look after yourself and save the threats to someone who deserves them," Sura reached around her neck and handed the other part of the necklace to J'Ziir. "Here, you might need this now."

He took the other part of the Eye and placed it back on his neck. Calmness wrapped around his heart. He was not nervous. Everything had gone exactly as he planned. Kidnapping Maven was almost too easy. He knew what he was waiting for and what was supposed to happen next. He glanced at the edge of the forest and nodded. She was in position. And Brynjolf should be here soon.

"By the way," Sura interrupted his thoughts. "Where you did put Maven?"

"You might have noticed that I changed the lock," J'Ziir answered.

"Mother's hideout?" Sura's eyes widened. "How did you know about it?"

"She showed me," J'Ziir replied. "And told me to use the hook."


	53. Chapter 53

**53.**

In the sewers under Riften two men were getting ready to leave. Brynjolf informed the Guild Master that the Khajiit left the city with Maven, exactly like they planned. He explained the plan to Maven and told her that she shouldn't resist too much. Just enough so it was credible. Mercer and Maul wouldn't be on their posts. Brynjolf assured Maven that it was all part of the plan and that he would take care of the rest. They would follow him. Ambush him. Take care of him and his allies. And finally, they would be able to get their hands on the old contracts and the riches that the Guild lacked. Those were the things that Maven and Mercer had been looking for years. And now they were so close. Maven just needed to play her part and Brynjolf and Mercer would take care of the rest.

"You're sure you know where that cat is?" Mercer asked his right-hand man.

"They used to have a house near Riften," Brynjolf nodded. "It's burned down now, only ruins remain. That's where we will find them."

"Inform the others," Mercer ordered. "I want everyone on this. Have you notified the guards?"

"Sure I have," Brynjolf smiled. "Aura will lead them and the rest of the Guild to the right place. Don't you trust me?"

"I don't trust anyone," Mercer sneered.

Brynjolf chuckled. Mercer's attitude didn't surprise him. He was a very careful man, very dangerous and very distrustful. It was obvious he only relied on himself. But he had been a rather steady leader for the Guild all these years. Despite all his faults. Brynjolf paid attention to the rumors he heard. He didn't believe everything but he was almost always able to peel away the empty layers and find the truth behind. And ever since he began digging into Mercer's concealed past, he banged his head into countless walls, over and over again. But he knew how to be careful and not draw attention to himself. To the best of his knowledge, Mercer didn't know about his private research. He checked his daggers, grabbed a few potions and he was ready to leave. But he still had to talk to Aura. She was an important piece in this puzzle and much depended on her. He saw her enter the Cistern and waved her. The Imperial nodded, smiled and walked up to them.

"You know where you're headed?" Mercer asked.

"I know," she replied. "To the old ruins. Not a problem."

"Remember what I told you, lass," Brynjolf looked at her. "All depends on you. You can't fail."

"I won't," Aura said and stared Brynjolf straight in the eyes. "I'll do my part. You just worry about yourself."

"You follow orders!" Mercer frowned. "Is that clear?"

"Sure thing, boss," Aura agreed but her eyes never left Brynjolf's.

After a few minutes, the two men left the Ratway and headed out of the city. The night was dark and the fog began to dissipate. Riften could once again be seen from the lake and as Brynjolf glanced back, he knew the city and its fate had changed for good. He didn't know what would happen. He had made his decision and he could only hope that it was the right one. He loved Riften in a weird, curious way. He cared for its people however sinful or cold they were. He wished that J'Ziir's personal thirst for revenge wouldn't bring Riften down. He dared to hope that it would actually lead to better days.

"Where's the house?" Mercer asked as they ran through the forest. "And who's the cat exactly? Fill me in before we get there."

"The house is not too far," Brynjolf began. "And the cat is...an old acquaintance that chose the wrong side. As far as I know, he prefers to work alone."

"And that woman who was sent to fool Maul? What happened to her?"

"She's dead," Brynjolf lied. "Maul wasn't fooled. Her body was ditched to Lake Honrich."

"Are you sure he won't kill Maven before we get there?" Mercer continued.

"Ingun lived for a week before her death," Brynjolf said. "I'm sure he wants to make Maven suffer. No quick death for her."

"When will the guards and the others join us?"

"Soon," Brynjolf assured him. "Aura knows what to do."

"She better," Mercer grunted.

The night closed around them. Like two silent shadows they circled Lake Honrich. Brynjolf controlled himself and hid his nervousness when they arrived at the small campsite that was now stripped and abandoned. He was worried that Mercer might notice something but the man barely looked at the place. Without stopping they continued on until they arrived at the remains of the old house. It was eerily quiet and no one was around. The silhouette of the chimney stood against the black sky but it was now a bit crooked. It pointed towards the sky like a lone finger. A silent wind whisked around and tossed the dead leaves but other than that everything was shrouded in silence. Brynjolf began to feel that he was double-crossed. J'Ziir led him to the wrong place. Mercer wasn't fooled for long. He would suspect something and then it wouldn't take long for him to put all the pieces together. And when it came to betrayal, Mercer wasn't known for his mercy. Brynjolf had witnessed that couple of times himself. He knew he wasn't as clumsy as those poor bastards that tried to stab the man in the back but he had no illusions. At best he might last a little longer but it would end badly for him.

Time marched slowly by and then Brynjolf noticed movement at the edge of the forest. The calm, black furred Khajiit walked into the view. He was alone and it seemed like nothing could disturb him. There was no fear, no nervousness, and no concern in his movements. For the first time, Brynjolf understood how different he was from a human. J'Ziir's heritage as a Khajiit gave him advantages that Brynjolf could only dream of. Night vision, sharp claws, silent moves, predatory features. How different we are, Brynjolf thought. He was usually able to tell his moods pretty accurately by looking at the movements of his tail. But now that long, muscular appendage was completely still. He felt strange like he wanted to shout to J'Ziir, maybe warn him for the last time. Assure him that he was on his side. But then he realized how ridiculous that would have been at this current moment, so he kept his mouth shut.

"It's over, cat!" Mercer began. "We know who you are. We know what you did. You're surrounded. There is no way out of this."

J'Ziir smiled and took a few steps towards them. The shadows swallowed him for a while. And when he appeared again he was almost right in front of them. Mercer reached out his sword but J'Ziir lifted his hand.

"Not so fast," he grinned. "You attack me and Maven dies. Patience. You know who I am? That's good. But does your little friend know who you really are? And what you did twenty-five years ago?"

Mercer winced and his lips curled. She showed his teeth and growled like he suddenly became a ferocious beast that was after blood. Brynjolf glanced at him. He tried his best to find out what happened all those years ago. But if Mercer was responsible, he covered his tracks way too carefully. J'Ziir only had a hunch and Brynjolf put all his trust into that small, weak fate he had in his brother. When the Guild Master reacted like this Brynjolf became more and more suspicious.

"I don't know what you mean," Mercer scowled.

"Sure you do," J'Ziir seemed awfully amused. "Does the names Namada, Gallus and Karliah ring a bell? The Nightingales? Nocturnal? Skeleton key? Any of that?"

Mercer didn't waste time. He pulled out his sword and launched towards J'Ziir. He was fast and competent but over and over again his sword only swung through the air. Brynjolf watched. And as the darkness once again hid his brother, he glanced at the moons. Aura and the others were on their way. But only hours later he would know had they found what they were looking for. The prize that J'Ziir promised him for luring Mercer here. The Eye of the Falmer. A gigantic, precious gemstone. And all the stolen assets that the Guild Master had hidden. From places, J'Ziir had discovered.

"Where did he go?" Mercer raged. "Come out and face me, you coward!"

"Patience," J'Ziir's voice answered from the darkness. "Let's bring everything out in the open, shall we?"

"You just wait till the rest of us get here!" Mercer threatened. "The people of Riften will rip you to pieces for what you've done."

"Somehow I doubt that," J'Ziir laughed and his voice echoed from the ruins of the old house. "When your lackeys find out what you did, you're the one getting ripped apart."

"Brynjolf! Where is that bastard hiding?" Mercer rampaged. "He thinks he's so clever. Circle around, we'll try to ambush him."

Brynjolf nodded. He pulled out his daggers, crouched down and began to crawl towards the house. When Mercer vanished behind the corner, J'Ziir appeared in front of him. They didn't talk since they already planned their strategy. He sneered and signaled for him to move forward. Brynjolf took out the poison bottle that J'Ziir gave him. He poured it on his dagger and hoped it would slow Mercer down long enough. If this didn't work and Mercer was able to escape the Guild would be in for a very difficult time. He still had the Skeleton Key.

J'Ziir climbed on one of the few rotten roof beams that were still standing. As Brynjolf glanced up, he was barely able to see him. He wasn't wearing his metal armor. His whole body was covered by a black leather cuirass that made his almost invisible. The light of the moons didn't reveal him. And his movements were so fluid and smooth that he melted into his environment. Like a silent predator, he moved forward. Brynjolf took a deep breath. This was it. As he came out of the other side of the ruins he spotted Mercer almost right in front of him. His long, dwarven sword gleamed dimly. His signature weapon, sharp and enchanted. Mercer waved at him and he shook his head. No sign of their prey. The Guild Master lowered his sword and sneaked to him. He switched the dagger from one hand to the other, took two quick steps and faster than the eye could see, he swung it upwards. In the last second Mercer moved. The dagger brushed his leg but it was sharp enough to cut through his armor and slash a long wound on his left leg.

"You traitorous bastard!" Mercer cursed and took a step back. His eyes became narrow slits, he turned towards him and attacked. Brynjolf was good but he only had his daggers. The effect of the poison was slow and the thief was concerned that he might not be able to hold on for long enough. "You lured me here, didn't you? Didn't you?"

Brynjolf backed away. He glanced towards the house and saw nothing. He wasn't sure was J'Ziir still there but he desperately needed his help. J'Ziir didn't trust him. Even now, his brother didn't trust him. For the first time after Zirr and Namada died, he felt completely abandoned. His mood affected him and made him weaker. Mercer saw his opportunity and smacked him in the head. He saw stars and fell down on his back. He felt something warm and wet on his forehead. Mercer's dark shape loomed over him and the Guild Master grinned.

"I've taken care of others like you," Mercer smirked. "You've seen what I do. And you should have learned. But you're too soft, Brynjolf."

He lifted his sword and was about to strike it down when J'Ziir's black shadow bounced on him. The Khajiit grabbed him from behind and before he could even react a sharp dagger was pressed against his throat. J'Ziir laughed quietly.

"And you are too obvious," J'Ziir hissed.

Brynjolf coughed and stood up. He wiped the blood away from his forehead, grabbed his dagger from the ground and nodded to J'Ziir. "Thanks, lad."

"What do you want from me, cat?" Mercer wheezed out. J'Ziir's arm pressed hard against his throat and he was having difficulties to breathe.

"The truth," J'Ziir said.

"What truth?" Mercer laughed. He was pinned down by strong muscles but he managed to slip out a blade that was hidden in the sleeve of his armor. He was never unprepared. He pulled it out and stabbed J'Ziir into his arm and when the Khajiit was forced to let go, he grabbed his Dwarven sword and ran. He headed towards the forest but didn't get too far when a sharp arrow flew from the woods and struck his injured leg. He fell down, cursed and wailed and his screams echoed through the field. Brynjolf frowned and grabbed J'Ziir's hand. The wound wasn't deep and it definitely didn't slow him down. Calmly he walked to the man who was now lying on the ground. He saw Lydia's shadow behind the trees.  _Good shot, housecarl_ , he thought and smiled.

"Ready for more?" J'Ziir asked Mercer. "Either you tell the truth or something way worse is going to happen to you."

"The truth," Mercer cackled. "If only I knew what are you talking about."

"Maybe you're wrong, lad," Brynjolf began to doubt.

"I'm never wrong," J'Ziir stated and grabbed Mercer by the collar. "We can do this the hard or the easy way. Whichever you choose is up to you."

"I always choose the hard way!" Mercer smiled. He reached out his sword and as quick as a snake, he grabbed it and rammed it right through J'Ziir's abdomen.

The whole clearing was filled with light. The night was gone. The shadows were gone. J'Ziir saw his father standing there. Right in front of him. His smile was warm and comforting. And then a huge bleeding slash appeared on his stomach. He fell to his knees and began coughing blood. " _No, pa!_ " he yelled in his mind. " _Don't do this for my sake!_ " J'Ziir heard Lydia scream but he couldn't see anything. The light was too bright. It emanated from his part of the Eye. He didn't feel pain but he tasted the metallic flavor of blood in his mouth. He felt Brynjolf's hands when he pulled him further, hurried footsteps, Lydia's voice, terrified, Raji's voice, calmer but equally worried. He wanted to tell them he wasn't hurt and they shouldn't worry about him. " _It's pa! Help him!_ "

Sura knelt down next to her brother. She saw the huge amount of blood that covered his stomach, the gaping wound. Lydia was right next to her and she told her to get as many health potions as she could. She poured out the content of the knapsack, her hands were trembling when she reached out the red vials. Sura pressed her own hands on J'Ziir's stomach and cast restoration spells. After a while, she noticed that her help wasn't that necessary. Lydia gently poured the potion into J'Ziir mouth and Sura pulled her hands away. His part of the Eye was doing all the work. She had thought that only when the Eye was united it had this kind of power. But now J'Ziir had almost died. And the Eye burst into life.

_"I can't control it. The Eye does what it wants."_ Sura remembered her mother's words. The serrated hole in his stomach began to heal. She couldn't tell did the potions help but the pulsating, glowing jewel on his neck enveloped him with its magic. Maybe it was both. She glanced behind and saw Brynjolf and Vilkas standing around Mercer. The poison had finally kicked in and he was barely able to move.

"Lydia, stop!" J'Ziir mumbled and pushed her hand away. "I'm fine."

"Fine!? Fine? You almost died!" Lydia was on the verge of tears.

"I'm not dead," J'Ziir stood up, grimaced and held his stomach. "But he is."

"Or he soon will be," Vilkas said. "It won't take long now with that poison. It spreads pretty fast."

"He'll last long enough," J'Ziir groaned. "To meet the person who wants to finish him off."

He turned to the forest and nodded. A small, dark shadow walked to the clearing. She wore a black leather armor, a cape, and a mask. Sura recognized the mask, it was the same one she had seen hidden in her mother's desk. The woman stopped next to J'Ziir and pulled out her bow.

"Mercer," she said with a soft, quiet voice. "I'm sure you remember me. Long time no see."

"Kar...Karliah?" Mercer mumbled. "No...can't be."

"It's me," she said. "And this is the end for you."

She took out an arrow, sharp and pointy. She didn't say a word as she aimed the arrow at him. Her face was covered by the mask so no one could see her face. But an aura of sadness and relief emanated from her.

"This is for Gallus," she whispered as she released the arrow.

A loud thud and the arrow reached its goal. It pierced Mercer's right eye and drilled deep into his skull. The clearing grew quiet. And as Mercer's left eye grew dim and lifeless, the woman in black almost fell to her knees. J'Ziir grabbed her by the arm and she turned to him and embraced him.

"Thank you," she whispered.


	54. Chapter 54

**54.**

"Show me the proof," Brynjolf held out his hand. "Like you didn't trust me, I don't trust you. The proof. Now."

"What makes you think I didn't trust you?" J'Ziir asked him.

"You never trusted me," Brynjolf frowned. "With your housecarl, with this. With anything. Didn't you try to kill me already?"

"Did I?" J'Ziir cocked his head. "It was more like a subtle warning. To keep you on your toes. And on the right path."

"Sure it was," Brynjolf glared at him. "Now, proof. Please."

J'Ziir nodded to Karliah who pulled out an old journal. "This belonged to Gallus. J'Ziir traveled to Markarth and to Winterhold to have it translated. It contains all that happened."

"And who are you?" Lydia asked. "One of J'Ziir's " _allies_ ," I assume?"

"Not now," J'Ziir glanced at her. "We can talk about your jealousy later, tell me how unfairly I treated you, you can slap me a couple of time if you want but now we have more important things to do."

"I hate you," Lydia muttered.

Brynjolf ignored all this. He took the diary and began reading it. He walked further and turned his back on them. J'Ziir glanced at Mercer's body and took his sword. He handed it to Karliah. "Do what you want with it."

She didn't take it. "I already did what I wanted."

"Then we can sell it," J'Ziir said and walked to Lydia who was standing by herself some distance away.

"Lydia," J'Ziir began. "Maybe I should have told you more, but I didn't know how this was all going down and…"

"As if!" Lydia scoffed. "You had this all planned out to the tee. So don't give me that crap!"

"Here," J'Ziir offered her the dwarven sword. "It's a good blade. A lot better than the one you are carrying now. When this is all over, I'll buy you something nice and feminine. Sweetrolls? Honey nut treats?"

"Do you think I'm a child? That I want a sweetroll as a thank you for my services?" Lydia crossed her arms. She tried so hard to remain angry, but the thunder clouds in her eyes began to vanish. She mostly felt relief, but she knew that this insane anger was an extreme reaction. J'Ziir almost died! And she had every right to be angry about that.

"I'll take this!" she grabbed the sword. "What if I want to keep it and kill you with it? What then?"

"If it amuses you," J'Ziir shrugged. "You can daydream about that all you want."

"I hate you," Lydia repeated but this time she didn't mean it.

"The feelings mutual," J'Ziir answered, turned and walked back to the others. Lydia followed him. He expected a stab in the back at any moment.

"If this is true," Brynjolf stood next to Mercer's body. It seemed like he wanted to kick him, maybe even do something worse. Chop him to pieces and display his head on top of Mistveil Keep.

"It is true," J'Ziir interrupted him. "Mercer killed Gallus, framed Karliah and then he and Maven conspired together to have my family killed. She wanted to have the old contracts my mother held. Her contacts to Cyrodiil and to other places in all across Tamriel. But in the end, she didn't have to lift a finger when she found about the connection between my father and... She gave him a hint and they were dead the next day."

"I've been on the run for the past twenty-five years," Karliah continued. "I wanted to prove my innocence but Mercer made sure no one believed me. Namada knew and promised to stand by my side. But she...couldn't. Instead, her son did. I've been planning my revenge for all these years. I couldn't have done it without J'Ziir."

"And the Skeleton Key?" Brynjolf asked.

"Gallus, Mercer, Namada and I were Nightingales," Karliah explained. "Nocturnal's servants. The Skeleton Key is one of her most revered artifacts. With it, you can pick any lock. Mercer stole it and that's one of the reasons the Guild has been doing so bad. Nocturnal isn't pleased. We need to return it to the Twilight Sepulcher. That's the only way to rectify things."

"Go ahead then," J'Ziir pointed at Merce's body. "It's yours to take now."

She was quiet for a while like she considered something. Finally, she turned to J'Ziir and Brynjolf. "You both helped me with this. Namada was a Nightingale. She was your mother. I can offer you the same blessing if you are willing to come with me."

"What?" Brynjolf was confused. "Us? Nightingales?"

"You're a thief, aren't you?" Karliah said and looked at J'Ziir. "And I owe you so much. This the only way I can thank you."

"Fine, let's grab it and go," J'Ziir nodded and turned to Brynjolf. "Coming, brother?"

"Why not, lad?" Brynjolf sighed. "I can't let you go by yourself, can I? That's like letting you enter alone in the Queen's nest. If mother was here, she would flay me alive."

"She'd do more than that," J'Ziir shook his head.

"Really?" Brynjolf was curious. "Any worse faiths that I don't remember?"

"The cellar?" J'Ziir suggested.

"Oh, don't you dare to remind me, lad!" Brynjolf looked horrified.

"The cellar?" Sura asked. "We didn't have a cellar."

"Oh, we did. Raji, you're lucky enough that you were too young to be locked there," J'Ziir chuckled. "Brynjolf I and shared many happy moments in the cellar, together with skeevers."

"And you just had to bring it up, didn't you?" Brynjolf sighed.

"You asked me," J'Ziir said.

"It was a rhetorical question!" Brynjolf yelled. "The cellar..."

Karliah knelt down to Mercer's body, searched him and found the Skeleton Key. She handed it over to J'Ziir. He hesitated but eventually took it. He told Brynjolf and Karliah to leave. He would catch up with them later. When the two, dark shadows disappeared back into the woods, J'Ziir turned to Sura, Lydia, and Vilkas.

"Head to the trapdoor," he said and looked at Sura. "I'll come as soon as I can."

"You don't trust me with the key?" Sura asked. "Afraid that I might let her go?"

"Afraid that she might hurt you," J'Ziir said. "She's locked up but she has a nasty mouth. I'd rather spare you from all that garbage. You don't need to hear it."

"Even if I did, I wouldn't believe any of it," Sura replied. "But have it your way. This is your plan, after all."

J'Ziir didn't hesitate when he pulled out the key and handed it to her. She took it and smiled. "I won't use it before you come back."

"If you do," J'Ziir said with a quiet voice. "Don't go alone."

Then he glanced at Vilkas who was standing next to Sura. "Keep them safe, wolf."

He nodded. They had reached sort of an agreement. They were not enemies but not friends either. Vilkas wasn't sure what the future would bring but he was determined to stand by his woman. And defend her and her family.

"What about me?" Lydia asked when J'Ziir was getting ready to leave. "You won't take me along?"

"Make sure no one finds Mercer's body," J'Ziir answered, grabbed her wrist and pulled her aside. "After that follow Raji to the trapdoor. If she goes in, you go too. If you let her go by herself..."

"She has Vilkas," Lydia interrupted him. "And you have Brynjolf and your mystery woman. Once again I get the dead body."

"Maybe afterward you get something more..." J'Ziir began.

"Yeah, a sweetroll, I get it!" Lydia rolled her eyes. "You have to offer me something better than that. I'm not that easy."

"I'll think of something, trust me," J'Ziir smirked. "Now, will you promise me you stay by her side?"

"I promise," Lydia sighed. "Just...don't take too long."

After J'Ziir left, Vilkas and Lydia dragged Mercer's body to the woods. They dug a whole, dumped it in there and covered it with dirt, soil, and leaves. As they walked away, Lydia glanced back and heard the skitter of small creatures. After a few weeks only gnawed, white bones would be left behind. Cold shivers ran down her spine. She definitely wouldn't want to have that kind of fate. A few hours later they walked to the hidden trapdoor that was on the small hill behind the ruins of the house. Sura noticed the new lock. She hadn't been here since she and Vilkas discovered the place. But of course, she should have known that mother would show J'Ziir the perfect place to hide Maven Black-Briar. From the hill, she was able to make out the silhouette of Riften. In the clear night, the city lights looked very bright. The disappearance of the noble lady must have been noticed. She was worried the Brynjolf and J'Ziir would be caught on their way back. She twiddled the key in her hands and looked at the lock. She was tempted to open it. At the same time, she wanted to wait for J'Ziir and Brynjolf. They began this as a family, they should it end it as a family. She wondered what J'Ziir meant with the "garbage" that Maven was spewing. Probably hurtful words and accusations against their parents. What else could it be?

"Do you want to go down there?" Vilkas asked her. He saw her nervousness and wanted to ease it somehow.

"I don't know," Sura answered. "I do, but...I don't. No, I don't want to hear what she has to say about my parents. About J'Ziir. And me."

"Then we'll wait for them," he said and brushed her cheek.

The two men finally returned several hours later. It was almost morning, Sura was dozing off and she leaned against Vilkas' chest. Lydia desperately tried to keep her eyes open but eventually, she lay down on the grass and fell asleep. Only Vilkas remained awake. He saw them as they appeared from the woods. Two black shadows, almost too difficult to spot. But Vilkas' eyes were not the eyes of a human. He was able to see things beyond his human vision. He gently shook Sura and she yawned. Then he also woke Lydia. A few minutes later J'Ziir and Brynjolf walked up the hill.

"You waited?" J'Ziir was surprised to see them. He half expected them all to go down the hatch.

"Like you asked," Sura mumbled.

"This is where you hid Maven?" Brynjolf muttered when he saw the small hatch on the ground.

"Clever, isn't it?" J'Ziir smirked.

"Not really," Brynjolf shook his head. "But I'll give you credit for trying."

"Like you would have found this place," J'Ziir snapped back.

"I wasn't even looking," Brynjolf shrugged. "But if I was..."

"Will you two stop?" Lydia stepped in. "There's plenty of time later for your meaningless arguing."

"Arguing?" Brynjolf smiled. "We're just bonding as brothers."

Sura gave the key back to J'Ziir. He knelt down, pulled the trapdoor open and disappeared inside. Sura didn't hesitate as she followed him. Vilkas came right after her, then Lydia and Brynjolf. The narrow stone path was now brightly lit. Silent and determined J'Ziir led them forward. They passed the waterfall and soon enough arrived at the main chamber. Maven Black-Briar was still alive. She was held in a strong iron cage that hanged above the huge hole. It had been less than a day since she was kidnapped and she was already furious and hateful. Her usual calm demeanor was gone and she rattled the steady bars, shouted curses and threats to them. Suddenly a fraudulent smile rose on her face when she spotted Brynjolf among them. Her smile caused Sura to worry. Even in this situation, she seemed to be absolutely sure that she wouldn't die. That someone - namely Brynjolf - would save her.

"Enjoying your stay?" J'Ziir stopped in front of her and smiled. "I sure hope so. I was planning to keep you here for quite a while, but I have to speed things up. There's a wedding ahead and I have to wipe away the blood before that. Riften wants to forget you."

"How clever of you," Maven smirked. "How cunning. You are exactly like your mother. As stupid as her, as stubborn. A proud, dirty animal. Nothing more. And when you die, no one will remember you."

"Yes, I am my mother's son," J'Ziir answered. "Proud to be her son. And look," he dangled a bunch of old papers right in front of her. "Here is the one thing you've been looking for all these years. So close, but yet so far."

Maven's eyes flashed. A greedy, needy look came into them. She had Riften in her pocket, the Thieves Guild under her power and yet - she lacked everything Namada had possessed. And when that infuriating cat was dead, Maven spent years and years looking for those papers. And always she came back empty-handed. But this time it would be different. This time her goal was right in front of her. Now all she had to do was make sure Brynjolf followed her orders.

"You think you won?" Maven cackled. "You think everyone is on your side? You think the guards of Riften aren't already on their way here? Soon this place will be swarmed and you and your little friends will perish. And I will take those papers and bury you and your puny family alive."

"You can try," J'Ziir answered.

"I will do more than try," Maven laughed. "Oh, I remember when I met your mother. That proud little whore thought she was something special. She actually thought she could stand against me. And now, you...how amusing this is."

Every word sunk deep in Sura's mind. Every word caused her to see red. She wasn't sure what was happening to her but she never felt so enraged. Her hands were trembling, her tail swung back and forth, her ears were drawn back. Lydia noticed the change in her mood, placed a warm hand on her shoulder and asked how she was feeling. All she could do was nod to her.  _I'm fine_ , she tried to calm herself.  _Fine!_

What happened next happened very fast. Brynjolf pulled out his dagger and placed it against J'Ziir throat. The Khajiit didn't flinch, his head didn't turn but his eyes did. Those cold, blue eyes. There was no fear in them. He smiled like he knew like he had anticipated this.

"Now?" J'Ziir smirked to Brynjolf. "Now you decide to betray me?"

"Maven has to live," Brynjolf said but his voice cracked. He wasn't sure about this and Lydia's horrified look made things worse. "The Guild won't survive if she dies."

"That's all you care about," J'Ziir said. "The Guild."

"It's my…family," Brynjolf stuttered.

"And what are we?" J'Ziir continued. "Strangers? It seems so."

"Just let her go," Brynjolf begged and his hand was shaking. "Don't make me do this, J'Ziir! Please!"

"You have ten seconds," J'Ziir said. "You can cut my throat and kill me. I'll give you a chance. If you don't, I will first kill Maven and then..."

Brynjolf swallowed. He was sweating. His breathing was erratic and his heart was pounding in his chest. He regretted this decision the moment he made it and knew that he had thrown his life down the drain.  _For what_? his brain yelled. For Maven? For the Guild? You turned against the only family you had? Brynjolf felt cold shivers run down his spine. He had never been this afraid in his whole life and he realized he made a terrible, terrible mistake.

" ...then, I will rip you to pieces," J'Ziir soft, deceptive voice whispered.


	55. Chapter 55

**55.**

Sura felt the change. She knew she could have prevented it. Rejected the intrusion. But when she realized who the person was, who tried to gain control of her mind and her body, she gladly stepped aside and decided to observe. She knew she could gain control of her body at any moment and push the other person away. But she also realized this person was the only one who could resolve the situation and keep both her brothers alive. Without bloodshed. Vilkas noticed the change first. Something about Sura's fur, its color. It wasn't completely white anymore. There were darker patches and it seemed like that its shade was changing right in front of his eyes. He touched her shoulder and when she turned to him, he inhaled deeply and took a step back.

Sura's eyes. Her blue eyes were gone. Instead, she was now watching him with eyes that were like molten gold, sharp, cruel and callous. There was nothing left of the woman he knew and he was afraid that this change was permanent. Once again he lost her to that other world. She smiled and that smile was very different, very intimidating. In some weird, twisted way it reminded Sura's smile but was far from it. Vilkas had never seen such sadistic joy in Sura's eyes.

"Sura?" Vilkas said her name and she grinned.

"I know you love my daughter, wo..."

_"Mother! He has a name! Please, use it!"_

"Krhm…Vilkas. You will get her back soon. Don't worry."

She walked away from him. Vilkas was unable to move. Someone else was in Sura's body. And not just anyone. Her mother. The mysterious Namada. Somehow her dead mother took control of her. Vilkas didn't know what to do. Should he do something? Or just stand here and watch how this would play out? For now, he decided to remain patient and wait. The woman who wasn't Sura anymore walked to the edge of the hole and stopped in front of the gate. Then she turned to the two men. When they saw her eyes, they both jumped.

"What do you think you're doing?" she asked them. Her voice was low and raspy.

Neither Brynjolf nor J'Ziir could answer. They were both caught off guard, just staring, their mouths hung open. Brynjolf's hand slowly slid down and he didn't even notice it. The dagger in his hand fell to the floor. He paid no attention to it. They both felt like they suddenly traveled back in time, in some distant, rather scary moment in their childhood. An uneasy feeling settled down inside their stomachs.

"That's better," she whispered. "Let this be the last time I see you two threatening each other."

"Mo...mother?" J'Ziir whispered.

"What?" Namada asked and her voice caused him to take a step back. Lydia smiled. It seemed that even the great Dragonborn was afraid of someone. His own mother. Lydia almost giggled. If she could learn to talk like that, she might have some control over her stubborn Thane.

"How...what?" Brynjolf stuttered. "I...what?"

"If I'm forced to see this once more," Namada stepped closer and the two men glanced at each other and huddled together like small, tiny boys caught red-handed. "I will roast your little behinds and then toss you into the darkest corner of the cellar. You won't be able to sit for weeks. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, ma," J'Ziir murmured and Brynjolf nodded.

"What?" Namada asked and slapped them both on their heads. "I'm not sure I heard that right."

"Sure thing, ma!" Brynjolf assured. "No need to get nervous. We'll be like the best of friends!"

"That's more like it," she smiled and this time her smile was very warm and loving.

Then she turned towards Maven. The woman locked in the cage was very quiet now. It was like she was beginning to realize that no guards would come. That Brynjolf alone wouldn't be enough, that he wasn't strong enough. Not loyal enough. That Mercer was no longer alive. And someone led the rest of the Guild to somewhere else. And here, right in front of her stood a dead woman. The same woman who killed her husband all those years ago. The same woman who she had just called a proud whore. Whose death she had been planning and participating in.

"Well," Namada began. "This is interesting, isn't it? We meet again. After such a long time."

Maven swallowed and tried to back away. But the only thing she managed to do was to get the cage moving. She fell to her knees. If she could buy time and stall her fate then maybe, maybe someone would come. Maybe Brynjolf was just acting and waiting for the others. Maybe everything wasn't lost. Couldn't be! She was Maven Black-Briar! She owned Riften! The Imperial Legion ate out of her hand! She could crush the Dark Brotherhood under her heel if she so desired!

"My son is more merciful than I was," Namada said. "When your husband  _visited_  me, I didn't use a cage. The hook was enough. He didn't last long. And he certainly didn't call for you. He called out to his mother, as men almost always do when they are in pain."

"What...do you want?" Maven stuttered.

"You threatened my children," Namada looked at her. "For the last time. If this was just about the contracts, I might let you go. But no one treats my children like this."

"Brynjolf forgot you!" Maven glared at her. "I took him under my wings. I taught him everything he knows. I told him what you were and he believed it all. In all these years, he never wavered."

"Really?" Namada smiled. "He's right there. Go on, talk to him. Give your orders. Tell him to kill them all. Slaughter them. The family that never meant anything to him. It should be easy, right?"

Brynjolf swallowed and avoided Maven's gaze. A few moments ago he was sure that he would die. Now Namada was momentarily in charge. J'Ziir wasn't stupid enough to defy his mother. And Brynjolf knew that the best thing he could do was to follow his example. Whatever happened, he couldn't prevent this.

"Not so easy, after all?" Namada looked at Brynjolf. "He did waver. You just couldn't see it. But I did. Every month he came to our graves. Every time he cleaned the gravestones. He wiped the leaves away. And when the stones began to crumble he replaced them with new ones. Sometimes he even talked to us. And he always followed his instincts. Because that's what I told him to do when he was just a boy. There are no right or wrong in life, just different options. Always follow your instincts, Brynjolf."

The red-headed Nord flinched. He remembered that day so clearly. How much that woman meant to him. A real mother after all those years spent in the orphanage. And he always followed her advice up until this moment. And as soon as he lifted his dagger and threatened his brother, he knew he wasn't being true to himself. And just when he needed Namada the most, she came to them.

"That bastard killed my children!" Maven shouted and pointed at J'Ziir.

"Did you?" Namada asked from her son.

"Why ask when you know the answer?" J'Ziir replied. "And no, I don't regret it."

"How cold," Namada walked up to him. "How emotionless. I was like you when I met your father. And I prayed that you would never be like me. But here you are, my dear. Just like my own image," she reached out her hand and caressed his face.

"If you were like me," J'Ziir lowered her gaze. "You won't judge me. You won't dare."

"I'm not judging you," Namada whispered, cupped his face and lifted his head. "My dear, I'm not. When my sisters were killed, I hunted their killers down. Eventually, I was caught. Arrested. Almost beheaded. But your father rescued me. And even after that all I wanted to do was kill. Until I saw that there is so much more to life. His love saved me."

"Cut the crap!" J'Ziir stepped away. "I know what you were, mother! An assassin! A thief! Don't talk to me about love and its curing power. What did love ever give to you?"

"You and your sister," Namada replied. "And many happy years with Zirr. You might not believe it. You might even refuse to remember. That's fine. That's not the reason I'm here now."

Once again she turned to Maven. And this time the woman in the cage knew her time was running out. She lifted her hands up and yelled. Her screams echoed in the stone chamber but no one came for her. In this small chamber right above Lake Honrich, the great Maven Black-Briar held no power.

"My Zirr was very angry when I killed your husband," Namada said. She cocked her head and smiled. Her eyes began to burn, her hands were enveloped in flames. "I'm no mage. I know nothing of magic. But this time he approves. He is even willing to help me."

Brynjolf, J'Ziir, Vilkas, and Lydia were forced to step back as the heat became too unbearable. Maven's screams were loud, desperate. Horrified. Her voice began to crackle, she was crying, wailing, begging. She promised things that were beyond her reach. She promised to leave Riften, to leave Skyrim. To do anything, if she was allowed to live. And then her promises turned into threats. Meaningless words of the Dark Brotherhood and how they would hunt Namada's children down. How they would be tortured and eventually murdered and ripped to pieces. How she had the power over all of them. How she would command them even after death.

Namada's smile widened. With every desperate word her satisfaction grew. She rejoiced of this feeling, tasting the fear and the horror of her victims. She had loved this so much when she was an assassin. And that was one of the hardest things she ever gave up. But she did it for her family. The fire in her hands grew. She closed her eyes and felt the energy surging through her. And finally, she released it all and a giant, blazing ball of fire left her hands and struck the iron cage. It was too bright to see anything. But they could all hear and smell what was happening. Lydia gasped and lifted her hands to her mouth. J'Ziir said nothing but even his original plan didn't contain this much brutality. Maven's screams were now loud and horrifying. They were inhumane, painful and appalling. The smell of burning flesh filled the cavern and Brynjolf coughed and gagged. He almost threw up and his face was pale.

After a while, they all saw the faltering figure that was burning to death inside her scorching prison. Her face was gone, her hair was gone. Her clothes were nothing but simmering rags that clung on to her. She was sobbing, no other sounds came out from her deformed mouth. Disgusting fumes rose from her body. The cage slowly swung back and forth. Lydia covered her eyes and turned away. This was too horrible to see. She thought that J'Ziir was cruel. But his mother...oh Divines, his mother! And that woman didn't even flinch. She didn't move, she just watched. And smiled.

_"Mother! I don't need to see this. Either you turn away or you leave. Now."_

"That's alright, dear," Namada said. "I've done what I came here for. This is almost over."

Maven's body ceased to move and collapsed to the bottom of the cage. Her fingers that were now nothing more than charred bones reached out between the bars. Towards the last hope. Towards something that never came. Namada nodded one last time and then she turned. She walked to Vilkas and placed her hands on his.

"I'm leaving now," she looked up at him. "And I leave my daughter to your care. I'm sure you know what will happen if something goes wrong."

_"Mother, please! No need for threats!"_

"You're not the only person in this family who keeps telling me that," Vilkas glanced at J'Ziir who rolled his eyes. "Let me tell you exactly what I told him. I love Sura. I will never leave her. And I will keep her safe."

"I know," Namada said. "I don't doubt you. After all, it was I who encouraged her to look for you. When I leave her body, she will feel weak and disoriented. Stay next to her."

"I will," Vilkas promised and squeezed Sura's hands.

"And you," Namada turned to Lydia. Her eyes widened, she hadn't expected to be addressed. "My son is a difficult man. He's annoying, irritating and unbearable. I don't understand how you have the patience to deal with him."

"I've sort of gotten used to it," Lydia replied.

"You remind me of Zirr," Namada said. "He was a patient man as well. Never gave up on me, that fool. Let's see if your patience lasts till the end."

"It will. I don't intend to let him go," Lydia looked at J'Ziir who was suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. His dead mother giving relationship advice to Lydia. This was straight from his worst nightmares.

"And you two," Namada talked to her sons and once again they both jumped. "Remember what I said. No more threats. Understand?"

"Yes, ma," J'Ziir agreed and stared at Brynjolf. "Brothers?"

"Brothers," Brynjolf nodded. "For life."

Sura's eyes closed. Her body slumped and Vilkas caught her. He held her close and caressed her hair. She felt his hand and kept her eyes closed. She didn't want the others to see her grief. For the first time, she shared such a connection with her mother. For the first time, she truly felt the love, the care, the unconditional devotion her mother had towards them all. Namada didn't show her feelings but Sura could feel them like they were her own. And in those last seconds, before she left, Sura felt her desperation. When she once again had to depart and leave them behind. She wanted to comfort her and not let her go. And when Namada vanished she felt abandoned and lost. The tears behind her eyes were the tears of sorrow.

_"Don't go, mother. We need you!"_

_"Don't be afraid. You're strong now. Go wherever your heart takes you. And never hesitate."_


	56. Chapter 56

**56.**

Once again she stood by the lake. A lone figure watching the sunset. Riften's stone walls were visible from the other side of the water. She heard the sounds of people, the water lapping against the wooden piers and the boats, the birds singing in the trees behind her. It was surprisingly calm compared to the hectic days they had experienced. Riften no longer needed the Black-Briar's. No one seemed to miss them. The city was better off. What was left of Maven was now fish food in Lake Honrich. Her remains would never be found, unlike her children. Brynjolf had made sure the Guild would survive. After J'Ziir gave him the old contracts, Mercer's hidden assets and most of the riches from Namada's hideout, the Guild was on its way to better days. In the end, Brynjolf was able to keep both of his families.

Sura heard footsteps and turned her head. She told Vilkas that she preferred to be alone for a while, to think about all that happened. But it wasn't Vilkas who came to her, it was J'Ziir. He stood next to her but said nothing. They both watched as the setting sun colored the woods, the clouds and the water with its shades of yellow and orange and red.

"So," Sura finally began. "What's it like to be the new Guild Master?"

"Not as glamorous as it sounds," J'Ziir replied. "That headquarter of theirs isn't very classy. No wonder Brynjolf always smells like sewage. Maybe his used to it but my nose is way too sensitive for that stink. And I didn't ask this, Brynjolf forced it on me. Said I need to take responsibility."

"I think you're perfect for the job," Sura smiled.

"The good thing is I don't need to be there that much," J'Ziir said. "Brynjolf and Aura can handle most things."

"Who's Aura?" Sura asked.

"Brynjolf's lover," J'Ziir said. "An Imperial. Sharp girl. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders. Makes things easier for me. I'm not much of a leader."

"I didn't know Brynjolf's in love," Sura was surprised and J'Ziir smiled. "If he is, why make advances towards Lydia?"

"He's not in love," J'Ziir glanced at her. "And Brynjolf is not the only man she entertains, he knows it. I think they have sort of an "agreement"."

"Oh," Sura lowered her gaze. "Does she " _entertain_ " you?"

"Do you think Lydia would approve?" J'Ziir crossed his arms.

"So you care what Lydia thinks?" Sura teased him and poked his sides. "Honestly, I think you should make up your mind. Stop tormenting her. Either you care for her or you don't. Which is it?"

"I don't know," J'Ziir answered. "I'm trying to figure it out myself."

"I can't be that hard," Sura frowned. "Just think about it. Can you live without her?"

"That's what I've been doing most of my life," J'Ziir avoided her gaze. "Living alone."

"But now you don't need to anymore," Sura grabbed his hand and wrapped her arms around it.

She leaned against his shoulder and smiled. J'Ziir didn't push her away. Instead, he cocked his head so that his cheek rested against her soft fur _. Lavender and tundra cotton_ , he thought. Just like when she was a little girl. Those were her favorite flowers. And whenever he had the chance, he gathered them for her. Piles and piles until she was covered in the blue flowers. And all he could hear was her happy giggle among them. And see her small white tail poke out somewhere from the middle of the pile. Long forgotten memories, happy memories. He wished he could remember more of those.

"What is this? A family meeting? And I wasn't invited?" Brynjolf's voice echoed across the water. He walked towards them and looked angry. But both Sura and J'Ziir saw the glint of laughter behind his severe gaze.

"Why don't you stay with that other family of yours?" J'Ziir rolled his eyes. "Since they are more important to you."

"Aren't you part of that family now?" Brynjolf smacked him at the back of the head. "You should thank me, lad. I made you my boss."

"Since I'm your boss, shouldn't you show some respect?" J'Ziir gnarled and rubbed his head.

"Don't get too cocky," Brynjolf remarked. "Your threats won't work anymore. We're brothers for life now."

"We're family for life," Sura stepped between them, grasped their hands and smiled.

"There is no way this cute, little lady is my sister!" Brynjolf pinched her cheek. "Are you sure you want to marry that wolf instead of me?"

"He has a name," Sura glared at them. "Why can't either of you use it?"

"Wolf suits him better," J'Ziir mumbled.

"Yeah, it kind of does," Brynjolf agreed.

"Well, you're not invited to the wedding then," Sura pouted but laughter gleamed in her eyes. "Stay away! Both of you, stinky skeevers! The whole Temple will smell like the Ratways of Riften."

"It's in two days," Brynjolf said. "It's too late now to back away. Can I come if I promise to bathe? Or maybe," he looked at J'Ziir. "Maybe we can kidnap the groom and replace him with someone else. Someone like me."

J'Ziir sighed. "Like you can leave that Imperial of yours. You can hardly get away from her."

"Oh, Aura," Brynjolf grinned. "Yes, you're right. If I was married, I'd probably miss her too much. She's quite talented, let me tell you. Could teach you a thing or two. Or maybe I should send her to Lydia. I'm sure she'd be eager to learn."

"Don't talk about kidnapping!" Sura punched them both. "Haven't we had enough of that? All you two do is threaten Vilkas. Well, let me give you a warning. If either one you ruins my day or behaves badly, I will cut you both out from my life. Is that clear?"

"When did mother return?" Brynjolf asked from J'Ziir.

"I think she never left," J'Ziir looked at Sura. "Ma? Is that you?"

"Shut up," Sura pulled his tail. "Or I'll cut this off."

"She's worse than mother," Brynjolf whispered. "The wo...ahem...Vilkas is in for a hard time. Let me withdraw my offer. I'd rather stay happily unmarried and safe."

"My tail was cut off once already," J'Ziir smirked. "Think of something better."

"Well, at least your " _housecarl_ " treats you kinder," Brynjolf implied. "I think she's prepared to do anything to make you feel…blessed. Why don't you test the waters before it's too late? I wouldn't let too many ships sail on my lake."

"What are you talking about?" J'Ziir rolled his eyes.

"I'll give it to you straight then," Brynjolf said and covered Sura's ears. He looked at her and whispered. "This is not meant for ladies, lass. Just be patient for a minute. I need to explain some of life's mysteries to this hardheaded brother of ours."

"I'm not interested," J'Ziir backed away. "Just keep it to yourself."

"Let's face it," Brynjolf continued. "You need a little help. All you have to do is grab her, kiss her and bed her. To my experience ladies like licking. You have a rough tongue. Use it! To the best of your abilities."

"Stop it!" J'Ziir lifted his hand. "Or I'll go against mother's will. I swear it."

"You don't know how to use it?" Brynjolf grinned. "It's not that hard. Just listen to the sounds and follow her lead. She will guide to all the right places. And it's not just great for her, you will also enjoy it. Trust me. Try it."

"Will you shut up!" J'Ziir pulled out his ax.

"Very scary," Brynjolf nodded. "I know, you want to kill me. But I'm just trying to help, lad."

"I don't need help," J'Ziir gnarled.

"That's what they all say," Brynjolf shook his head. "Admitting that you have a problem is the first step."

"Are you two done yet?" Sura pushed Brynjolf's hands away.

"Yes, we are," J'Ziir said.

"Actually no," Brynjolf sighed. "But when he doesn't want help, I can't force him to accept it."

"I don't need that kind of help," J'Ziir rumbled.

"What kind of help can I offer then?" Brynjolf teased him.

"I need to find someone," J'Ziir said.

"Again?" Brynjolf shook his head. "Don't tell me this is the start of another retaliation. Because if it is, I won't be part of it. You're on your own!"

"No," J'Ziir said. "I need to locate someone called Esbern. He should be somewhere in Riften."

"That old lunatic?" Brynjolf said. "I know him. He's hiding in the Ratway. Give me a day and you have him in your hands - boss."

"Just show me where he is," J'Ziir looked at the lake. "That's enough."

"Come on," Sura smiled, hugged Brynjolf and then J'Ziir. "Can't we just spend this one moment happy? All three of us together? Let's forget sad things for a while. I don't want us to argue. Or to be enemies. We have enough of those in Skyrim."

"Sound good to me, lass," Brynjolf wrapped his arm around Sura's shoulder. After a little while, J'Ziir cleared his throat and also lifted his hand. Brynjolf pulled his hand on top of his own and they saw a little smile on his face. A smile he didn't even bother to hide. Sura stood between them, her brothers. Safe and secure in their warm embrace. The remains of the lost family were here now. They were finally united. And this moment was special and unique. The sky was now almost purple and the lake began to gather shadows.

"Do you remember," Brynjolf whispered. "That old lullaby? How did it start? The one that mother always sang to us?"

"Near the river's edge?" J'Ziir immediately said. "Where the eagles fly. Where the mountain meets the sky. The water sparkles in the light of the sun, and all our worries are gone and done."

"Yeah, that's it," Brynjolf smiled.

"Come with me my little one," Sura continued. "Come and play, and let us run. Away from sorrow, away from pain. Hand in hand through the misty rain."

"The last part was yours," J'Ziir looked at Brynjolf. "It was the shortest and easiest to remember."

"Was it?" Brynjolf asked. "Let's see..."

"You forgot it?" J'Ziir breathed. "Of course you did…"

"Where the mountain meets the sky," Brynjolf recited in a loud voice. "Near the river's edge, where eagles fly."


	57. Chapter 57

**57.**

Sura spun around. How soft and light the material was. How it flowed like warm water around her legs. She never expected a dress like this. She never wore anything so beautiful and so elegant in her whole life. It wasn't a traditional wedding gown. No woman in Skyrim preferred this kind of clothing. The dresses were usually made of sturdy fabric that could last for years. But this gliding dream was so unique, like summer clouds. Sura had no idea where Lydia got the dress and she refused to reveal her secrets. She was standing next to her and smiling. Lydia was also wearing a gown, a long, dark red dress. She had a ruby circlet on her forehead and her hair flowed down her shoulders.

Lydia's hands were behind her back. She was holding something and she had a cryptic smile on her face. When Sura turned to her, she took out the flower wreath. It was made from lavenders and it landed softly on Sura's head. Her small ears rose above it and in Lydia's eyes, she looked cute, innocent and utterly beautiful. The flowers matched her eyes and the light blue of the dress. Lydia was happy that she was able to get her hands on these things. With a little help from Brynjolf. She wanted her friend, this best friend, this sister of hers to have an unforgettable day. Nothing was going to ruin it.

"A wreath?" Sura touched the flowers. "Lydia, you shouldn't have…"

"Don't say a word," Lydia took her hands into hers. "You deserve it. All of it. This is your day. Yours and your husbands. Don't think about anything else."

"Husband?" Sura said. "Isn't it odd that we are here now? Remember when we talked about your wedding with Hadvar. We both imagined this Temple would welcome you first.

"I remember," Lydia smiled. "Feels like it happened years ago. Neither of us knew where we would end up."

"You want to get married?" Sura looked at her. "It was never Hadvar, was it?"

"When I was younger and my father suggested it, then it was Hadvar," Lydia said. "Because J'Ziir was not in my life. I can't imagine he'd ever want to get married. He's not that romantic."

"He might have changed," Sura shook her head. "He's not as cold as he pretends to be. I think he's starting to melt down. You just need to add some more wood to the fire."

"Just make sure that you add some wood the fire tonight," Lydia teased her and Sura giggled. "Better yet, add some oil. Lots of it."

"Lydia," Sura lowered her gaze. "I..I'm not sure how to do this. Vilkas is patient, I know. And he wouldn't hurt me. And if I...won't be able to...what if I panic? Push him away? What then? Would he just leave? If he does...then what will I do?"

"Stop it. He's not like that and you know it," Lydia said with a steady voice. "He would never do that. He knows what happened. And he will understand. You decide the pace."

"I'm afraid," Sura whispered. "The Orc is going to come between us. His memory will always be there. I can't get rid of it. And I can't feel anything but pain."

"You won't let him!" Lydia pulled her next to her on a wooden bench. "This is nothing compared to what we went through in the last couple of weeks. And that was something we  _had_  to endure. This is something you  _get_  to enjoy! So, enjoy it!"

"It's such a normal thing between people, right?" Sura continued and now she talked to herself more than Lydia. "They do it even if they don't love each other. They just grab one another and that's it. Shouldn't be that hard. Maybe it's over before I know it."

"Calm down," Lydia hugged her. "It will be fine. And if you can't do it, I'm sure he is willing to wait. Until you are ready."

Sura raised her eyes and nodded. She believed that Lydia was right, wanted to believe. Lydia cupped her face in her hands and smiled. They shared almost everything in their lives. Even now Sura was able to tell her about her worst fears. Lydia wondered should she have a talk with Vilkas before the ceremony. J'Ziir and Brynjolf were probably trying their best to scare him off. And if she went to see him and start blabbing about sex and the approaching wedding night, he might just shove her out of the door for good. She had no intentions to add the pressure, but she wanted him to know about Sura's fears. But she figured he probably knew about them already. He wasn't blind and Sura was the most important thing in his life. Better leave it to him. Lydia stood up, kissed Sura on the cheek and left.

She sat there by herself, in that small room at the Temple of Mara. She touched her necklace and it made her calmer. She thought about her mother. What a strong woman she was, facing all that by herself. Before she met father. And even after that, she relied on herself. Made mistakes, yes, but she owned up to them. Sura wished she could be a bit more like her. To have her courage. That bravery. And as he touched the necklace and kissed it, she felt a calm, tranquil feeling settle inside her. This was the best day of her life and nothing bad would happen.

A light knocks on the door. Brynjolf peeked inside. She smiled at him and J'Ziir pushed Brynjolf out of the way and into the room. When she stood up, they stopped on their tracks. Brynjolf's eyes were filled with adoration, delight, and fondness. And J'Ziir gaze was soft, even gentle. For once those ice blue eyes were brimming with warm feelings. Affection, wonder and even a little hint of love, somewhere deep down. He didn't even try to hide it. She smiled and pulled them both to her. She wrapped one arm around Brynjolf and the other around J'Ziir.

"Thank you for being here today," Sura whispered to them.

"Wouldn't miss this for the world," Brynjolf squeezed her tight. "I have to say, Raji. You look gorgeous. Doesn't she?"

"Yes, she does," J'Ziir nodded.

Neither one of them wore their armor today. Just casual clothing and they both looked handsome and graceful. Sura was also pleased to notice that they had both bathed, neither smelled like sewage. Brynjolf even shaved and combed his hair. J'Ziir reached pulled out a bouquet of flowers, tundra cotton. Sura was taken aback. These flowers didn't bloom in the forests of Riften. How far had he gone to get these? Brynjolf cleared his throat and added some lavender among them. He glanced at J'Ziir and together they handed the flowers to her.

"Well, aren't you two sweet?" Sura smiled. "What have you done now? Did you spend all this morning threatening Vilkas? He ran away, didn't he? That's why you're trying to soften me up?"

"We would never," Brynjolf assured but his face told otherwise.

"We did," J'Ziir admitted. "And he ignored us."

"Aren't these your favorites?" Brynjolf glanced at J'Ziir. "Can you believe this cat dragged me all the way to the tundra to pick these flowers? You should have seen us, two grown men, in full body armor picking flowers. Like some dainty ladies. Even the rabbits were laughing at us, not the mention the two giants who waddled by."

"Cat?" J'Ziir crossed his arms. "Watch your tongue, Nord. Or I'll cut it off."

"No threats today!" Sura glared at them. "It's a happy day, I told you not to ruin it."

"No worries," Brynjolf wrapped his arm around J'Ziir's neck. "He would never do that. Never. He doesn't have the courage or the skill. And because I'm his superior older brother, he'd be lost without me."

"Get off me," J'Ziir shoved him away. "You stink."

"Hey, I bathed before I got here, lad!" Brynjolf feigned insult. "You didn't."

Another knock on the door interrupted them and the Priestess of Mara entered. She informed them that it was time to start the ceremony. The groom was waiting. Sura inhaled deeply and looked at her brothers. A bunch of fluttering butterflies settled in her stomach and squeezed the flowers in her hand way too hard. Brynjolf took her hand in his and smiled.

"Relax, lass," he smiled. "It will be fine. After today you're not walking alone anymore."

"You make it sound like you're going leave me after today," Sura frowned. "Are you?"

"I would never be able to do that," Brynjolf smirked. "We're family for life, right. And family sticks together, no matter what happens."

Sura turned to J'Ziir. Her eyes, her gaze reminded him of the moments in their childhood when she looked up to him and asked for help. To climb on a big rock, to reach for something that was too high. To enter first in a scary, dark cave they used to explore. That look always made him melt and give in. Whatever she asked, he was ready to do it for her. But this time all he could offer was his unconditional support. And he gave it to her. Despite his suspicions and his inborn distrust of the man, he wanted to believe that Vilkas was the right man for Raji. He was sincere and trustworthy. And since Raji trusted him, so would he. After today they would be brothers.

"He's waiting," J'Ziir brushed her cheek. "I won't be able to marry him on your behalf. I could try but I don't think he'd approve. Lydia would be upset as well. And that gown doesn't fit me, it's too tight."

"You're silly," Sura giggled.

"I am, aren't I?" J'Ziir smiled and pulled her into his arms. She wrapped her arms around him, closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat. Steady, strong, reliable. She had three good men in her life right now. And she loved them all so much.

"Raji," J'Ziir whispered to her ear and his voice cracked a bit. "Just be happy. That's all I ask. Be happy."


	58. Chapter 58

**58.**

Vilkas wasn't nervous. He was standing here, in front of the Goddess Mara, ready to give his lifelong, solemn promise to the woman he loved. The day passed like he expected. He was amused by the theatricals J'Ziir and Brynjolf put up. Glaring at him, giving him silent warnings. They both came to the small side room where he was waiting and made him swear an oath. He felt like he was joining a guild and when he mentioned it, Brynjolf nodded. It was a guild, a family guild. And the only way out was death. He swore he would always look after Sura, never let her be in danger and always treat her like she was the High Queen of Skyrim. Even if he ever met the real High Queen or King, he would first have to bow to Sura and only then show his respects to the ruler. Brynjolf made up the last part and both Vilkas and J'Ziir glanced at him at that point. But the redhead just stood there and stared at him sternly, like he was actually serious about that. Brynjolf also demanded that whenever they encountered a puddle, in Riften or in anywhere else in Skyrim, he should lie down on the ground and let Sura walk over him. At that point, he almost tossed them both out. But underneath their unreasonable demands, Vilkas knew they had good intentions. He knew all they wanted to say with their threatening maneuvers and gestures. That they - like he - wanted nothing more than to make sure that the hard times in Sura's life were far behind her.

"Lady Mara," Vilkas looked at the stone statue of a Divine. "Look after us all. And let us finally have some peace."

There weren't that many people at the Temple and Vilkas preferred it that way. He sent a note to Jorrvaskr but expected no one. Even Farkas wasn't that excited. And Vilkas knew the others weren't just twiddling their thumbs. They had enough to do. He turned and looked at the people who were gathered at the Temple. There was Lydia, smiling and obviously very happy. Her green eyes were sparkling, her hair flowed open and she looked very beautiful. It seemed that she was dreaming about the day she would be married here as well. Vilkas never saw the red dress she wore but it seemed to be very effective. It drew J'Ziir complete attention. The Dragonborn was openly staring at his housecarl. Not even bothering to hide it. When Brynjolf's eyes also brushed by Lydia's curves, J'Ziir gaze turned into ice. And that glare was meant for his brother. Brynjolf wasn't disturbed though. He smiled to J'Ziir very warmly and lovingly, even batted his eyelashes couple of times.

Next to the red-headed thief sat the dark-haired Imperial. Aura. She didn't smile. There was a curious expression on her face like she was interested to see what was happening but didn't really care much for it. She was looking around like she lost something and tried to find it. She seemed to be more interested in her surroundings than the upcoming ceremony. She was young, barely out of her teenage years. A sharp scar traveled down her face, right beneath her left eye. She looked up and her light brown eyes met his gaze. If Farkas was here, he would be thrilled. And he would do whatever he could to steal that woman for himself. Farkas wasn't known for his subtlety. Vilkas could almost see the battle between his brother and Brynjolf. But couldn't predict who would win.

"Ah, here comes the bride now," Maramal smiled and Vilkas turned.

There she was. Walking towards him. In that silky, dreamlike dress that floated around her. Everyone else ceased to exist. There was only Sura. Her smile. Her eyes. Her slender, tiny figure. Her long fingers that locked with his when she touched his hand. Her familiar, beautiful scent that consisted of the mixture of those two flowers that were her favorites. When she stood next to him, looked at him and smiled, he was sure his heart gave up on him. It was completely taken over. Every last piece was hers. Her smile brightened every last corner, every dark shadow, every dreary thought. Even his beast was conquered, down in that dark cage where he locked it up. Usually, he sensed it, felt its constant need to be free. But now it was completely quiet. Its needs were the same as his. To be united with this woman. To have her and to hold her for the rest of his life. For a few fleeting seconds Vilkas was sure he went to Sovngarde and back. And after he returned to Tamriel he noticed that something was wrong. Sura still smiled but her smile was a bit...unnerving. Like she wanted to create one of those blazing fireballs of hers and hurl it at someone's face. And that someone was...maybe her two brothers?

"I thought you might have run," Sura whispered to him before Maramal begun his speech.

"Why would I run?" Vilkas hissed back at her.

"Didn't those two idiots abused you?" Sura slightly nodded his head. "And can you believe it? They brought me flowers so they could soften me up. And then... this... they won't get away with this so easily this time."

"Alright, now you're scaring me," Vilkas leaned a bit closer to her.

"Family for life," Sura sighed and shook her head. "Of course, add a new member. And a couple more, why not. It's a wedding day, after all. Celebration for everyone!"

"Um...is everything alright?" Vilkas tried to calm her down. This was not going the way he thought. Sura didn't seem to be too happy. She was far from a calm, beautiful bride Vilkas was expecting. And even the priest noticed it. He leaned closer and asked where they ready to begin.

"You two!" Sura suddenly turned and pointed at her brothers. "Didn't I already warn you? I told you not ruin the day! And what did you do? Exactly the opposite!"

"What did you do?" Brynjolf glanced at J'Ziir who looked confused.

"Me?" J'Ziir snapped at him. "Nothing. What about you, Nord?"

"Don't you " _Nord_ " me, don't you even go there, lad!" Brynjolf waved his hand dramatically. "Or I'm going to..."

"First flowers and then a skeever?" Sura glared at them. "Is that supposed to be cute?"

"A sk...skeever?" J'Ziir blinked. "A skeever?"

"Is there something wrong with your ears?" Sura asked and her voice was cold as ice. Like a wintry breeze suddenly blew the doors open and entered the Temple.

"A skeever?" Aura suddenly jumped. "I've been looking for that little critter the whole day. Did you see him? Where is he? Is he alright?"

"Wait," Brynjolf lifted his hand. "You lost Hulgar?"

"Who's Hulgar?" Lydia frowned.

"Our  _baby_ ," Aura pointed at Brynjolf. "Brynjolf gave him to me when he was just a teeny tiny little rodent. I didn't dare to say anything because I know you would get mad and...I looked all over for it before this damn ceremony…"

"That's your  _baby_?" Sura pointed towards the side room. "Your " _Hulgar_ " over there? Defecating on top of the statue of Mara? How lovely..."

"We need to catch him!" Brynjolf jumped over the benches and ran to the side room. The Imperial was quick to follow and before anyone could react, the grey little rodent sprinted out of the room and under the benches.

"Hulgar!" Aura screamed. "Get back here, you naughty little creature! Back to mama, didn't you hear me!"

Vilkas closed his eyes and prayed for patience. Sura stood next to him and watched as the two people knelt down and tried their best to catch the elusive little creature. J'Ziir pulled Lydia aside, grabbed his dagger and when Aura saw it she shouted at him. "Don't you dare, boss! You are not allowed to kill him!"

"Why?" Lydia wailed and looked at the statue of Mara. "Why couldn't this just be a peaceful day filled with happiness?"

When the quick, grey creature ran from under the benches and headed towards the altar, Brynjolf jumped after it. But Sura lifted her hand and the Nord stopped. She knelt down, looked at the skeever and smiled to it. The rodent sniffed the air and as the chaos around it ceased, it seemed to calm down. Sura was ready to admit that little Hulgar was quite cute. She reached out her hand and cooed. They all watched as Hulgar waddled up to her, reached out its tiny paws and climbed into her lap. She stood up, walked to Aura and handed the skeever to her.

"Here's your baby," Sura smiled. "Better not lose him again."

"I won't," Aura said and her voice was surprisingly serious. She took the skeever, hugged it and snapped gently its nose. "Who's a bad boy, huh? Causing such a ruckus at a wedding. You should know better."

"Ahem," Maramal finally opened his mouth. "Are we ready to begin?"

"Well, this was interesting," Vilkas couldn't hold his laughter and tried to cover it with a cough. "You work wonders with animals, love."

"I have to," Sura smiled at him and now her face was bright and happy. "I want to be with you for the rest of my days. And I think that wolf of yours isn't as easy as a small skeever."

"Krhm...it was Mara who first gave birth to all creation," Maramal began with a loud voice. He paused like waiting for something to happen again and it seemed like he forgot the right words for a moment. He glanced at the skeever who was now sitting duteously in Aura's lap. Then he was able to gather his thoughts and continue. "And pledged to watch over us as her children. It is from her love of us, we first learn to love one another."

Vilkas touched Sura's hand and closed it inside his own. She didn't pull away, but she blushed and had to bury her face in the lavenders and tundra cotton. He smiled and squeezed her hand tighter. He looked up at the statue of Mara. He was so happy at this moment that he was even able to accept that one of their wedding guests was a skeever named Hulgar. This was actually happening; they were standing here right now. Together. Side by side.

"It is from this love that we learn that life lived alone, is no life at all," Maramal continued. When he said those words, J'Ziir eyed Lydia. He told Brynjolf and Raji that he was used to living alone. He spent most of his life by himself. But some part of him didn't want that anymore. Some strange part claimed that what this priest was saying, was actually true. " _Life lived alone is no life at all."_ Was that their mother's voice who whispered into his ear?

"We gather here today, under Mara's loving gaze," Maramal smiled to the couple standing in front of him. "To bear witness to the union of two souls, in eternal companionship."

"So, am I going to be a Companion after this?" Sura leaned towards Vilkas.

"Yes," he replied. "My companion. No one else's. I'm not willing to share you."

"Not even with your wolf?" Sura giggled in her bouquet.

"I will never even let it see you," Vilkas looked at her and his gaze was severe. "You are too beautiful for something so...hideous."

"Aw, I think it's just lonely," Sura gently nudged him.

"It can go play with someone else," Vilkas stated. "Our marriage is not its playground."

"Ahem," Maramal cut in with a loud voice. "May they journey forth together in this life and in the next. In prosperity, in poverty, and in joy and in hardship. Do you agree to be bound together in love, now and forever?"

The looked at each other. Then Vilkas turned to the priest and without hesitation, he pledged his life to his woman. "I do. Now and forever."

Maramal nodded and turned to Sura. Then he presented the same question to her. And like Vilkas, she had no regrets, no doubts, and no concerns. Her voice was clear and bright when she promised herself to the man she loved more than any other. "I do. Now and forever."

What the priest said next flew past her ears. She couldn't hear it; she didn't want to hear it. All she saw were her husband's eyes. Grey, steady, glimmering with happiness and love. He pulled her into his arms and when he kissed her, she tossed the bouquet away, wrapped her hands around him and said goodbyes to her lonely, sad past.

_Let it be forgotten,_ she thought.  _Let it be._


	59. Chapter 59

**59.**

How were things suddenly so awkward? How did that happen? When and why? They were now married. Blessed under the eyes of Mara. They were no longer two people but one entity. Together for the rest of their lives. And that's what Vilkas always wanted. This should have been a dream come true. And yet - how could it be so awkward? They were standing together at the porch of Honeyside. J'Ziir and Lydia left Riften. After the ceremony, J'Ziir pulled Vilkas aside and gave him a key. A house key. He didn't explain his intentions; he only said it belonged to a house he bought. As a wedding present. No sister of his would spend her wedding night in a small, crappy room at the Bee and the Barb. When he said that, he cringed like he didn't want to think about what the night would entail. J'Ziir sighed, waved his hand and walked away. At the Temple gates, he turned back and grabbed his arm. Not very gently but there was no hostility in his actions. Then he said something that sent chills down Vilkas' spine." _We're brothers now. Family._ "

Honestly, Vilkas wasn't sure himself what would happen tonight. He didn't intend to pressure Sura. If they would only sleep side by side tonight he would be content. But he didn't lie to himself, he hoped for more. They had both waited long enough. He wished he was able to rid that nightmare out of Sura's head. Because a tiny part of that Orc still lived there, somewhere on the plains of agony and fear. He wanted to go to that place and replace all the bad things with love, pleasure, and enjoyment. He wanted to rename that place and claim it as his own. Tonight he was about to knock his beast out cold, tie it up, blindfold it and push it in the darkest, deepest place of his soul he could find. He had no intentions to let that creature roam free tonight.

Sura swallowed. She stood motionless and watched the sun as it colored the lake. She was rather nervous now that they were alone. Despite Lydia's words of comfort, she was sure she would just ruin everything tonight. And by tomorrow morning Vilkas would deeply regret marrying her in the first place. Maybe he'd even try to sneak out during the night and leave behind an ambiguous note of how he did care for her but it wasn't going to work between them after all.  _"No!_ " A strong voice suddenly came to her. It was like a powerful whisper that swept over the lake and surrounded her with soothing hushes.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Sura bit her lip but didn't move her eyes from the scenery.

"Sure is," Vilkas agreed but he wasn't looking at the setting sun. His eyes were fixated on his wife.

_My wife_? He was still having a hard time believing it. That he was now married to the woman he loved. To the woman, he had held in his heart for years and years. And here they were now, husband and wife. Standing next to each other but afraid to touch, afraid to be together. No. He was afraid. Afraid that he would cause her pain. Unwillingly.

"I didn't know J'Ziir bought this house for us," Sura continued. "He does some weird things. I mean, it was not necessary, right? We are not staying in Riften for good."

"I guess it was his way of giving his...acceptance," Vilkas shrugged. "Wanting to give us privacy. I doubt we would have that at the Inn. I heard that Brynjolf took care of the furniture. So it's like a gift from both of them, I guess."

"Yes," Sura giggled and turned to him. "Did you know that he had to repair that huge bed twice? Bribe Balimund? I couldn't stop laughing when Lydia told me. That for some reason J'Ziir was extremely angry to Brynjolf and he accidentally used his Thu'um. Accidentally? As if! He never does anything by accident. He tossed Brynjolf, the bed and the three men carrying it across the canal. The headboard was smashed. Afterward, Brynjolf cursed so hard that the whole Market echoed and J'Ziir just vanished."

"What?" Vilkas laughed. "Why didn't I hear about that? And what made him so angry?"

"Lydia," Sura continued. "She wanted to come and help me. But she " _tested the waters_ ", like Brynjolf advised her to and told J'Ziir she was meeting another man at the Inn. He sat at the Bee and the Barb the whole day, chucking down ale after another. Then he barged upstairs and broke all the doors. Keraava was furious but didn't dare to throw him out."

"No way," Vilkas shook his head. "Can't be."

"And then he was banned from entering ever again. Oh Divines," Sura shook her head. "What a crazy family you chose. I hope you won't regret marrying me."

"I won't," Vilkas said and his smile was tender and kind. "This is one decision I will never regret."

"I'm talking too much, aren't I?" Sura turned to him but couldn't look him in the eyes.

"That's alright," Vilkas said. "You can talk to me as much as you want. I like your voice."

"So...how shall we...do this?" Sura glanced inside. "I hear Brynjolf got the bed all the way from Cyrodiil. I don't know how he managed that but..."

"You don't have to be so nervous," Vilkas brushed her cheek. "And we don't have to do anything that you don't want. This is not a competition. It's not a duty or a something that we absolutely need to do. I want you to understand that."

"I..I'm just worried," Sura's eyes were filled with insecurity. "That you won't...that I can't...that if I just try hard enough...then you won't be...so disappointed in me."

"It's alright, love," Vilkas pulled her into his arms. "You could never disappoint me."

"You're too kind to me," Sura held him tight. "Way too kind to a ca..."

"Don't say that word," Vilkas pressed his finger on her lips. "I don't want to hear you demean yourself like that. I don't want to hear you saying you're worthless or broken or damaged. Because you're not."

"But..."

"But nothing," Vilkas smiled to her, cupped her face in his hands and lifted her gaze. "You are perfect the way you are. Strong and capable. Haven't I seen it myself? What you've done, what you have become while in Riften? Don't hide that all away."

Sura looked into his eyes and saw no lies there. And although she sometimes felt herself way below him, his words gave her strength and will to be his equal. To be worthy of his love. To earn this place by his side. To be his wife, his companion in life. She got on her toes and kissed him. That one touch ignited a fire in both of them. Something that had been sleeping for a long time.

"Wait," Vilkas mumbled against her lips. "What's...that smell?"

"What smell?" Sura sniffed the air. "I don't smell anything. Except for fish..."

"Like something's...burning inside?" Vilkas glanced towards the door. "Don't you smell it?"

"Oh no!" Sura yelped. "Lydia's pies! She told me before they left...that I should...remember them...oh Divines!"

They rushed inside together. Both begun to cough as thick smoke filled the shack. Sura glanced towards the fireplace and saw the charred remains of snowberry pies that Lydia bought for them. She had left them on a silver platter, covered by a soft leather cloth. Just next to the fireplace to keep them warm. And now the cloth was on fire and so were the pies underneath. Vilkas grabbed a bottle of mead and poured it on top the whole thing. The smoke became unbearable and Sura was forced to push open and window and gasp for air. She was barely able to get out of the way when Vilkas hurled the whole thing outside. They heard the splash as it landed on Lake Honrich. As the smoke began to clear Sura burst out laughing. Her stomach was hurting and tears rose into her eyes but the whole situation was unbelievable. Burned pies, mead, the thick smoke, and the sound of lapping water. She wasn't sure was this a dream or a reality. A perfect end to a perfect day.

"More fish food," she held her stomach and leaned against a wall. "Oh no. I think that was supposed to be our wedding cake or pie...something sweet anyway. I guess Maven will have to settle for that then..."

"Something sweet?" Vilkas picked her up in his arms and spun her around the room. Her head was dizzy and not only because of the smoke and laughter. "I can think of something much sweeter than Lydia's burned pies."

"You distract me way too much," Sura smiled to him and after a few moments she stuck her tongue out. "And...I'm going to throw up if you won't stop spinning me..."

He lowered her down and turned her around. He wrapped his arms around her and grabbed her hands in his own. Then he pressed his cheek against her and smiled. "So, my dearest wife. Would you like to dance?"

"There's no music," Sura whispered.

"Use your imagination," Vilkas murmured into her ear.

"Farkas knows how to play the lute," Sura muttered and Vilkas groaned.

"Let's leave him out of this," Vilkas spun her around and kissed her ear. It tickled, she sniggered, cocked her head and drew her ear back. She turned to look at him. And then there was nothing else but him. He bent down, kissed her and this time he wasn't about to back away. His lips lingered on hers, he brought his other hand to her face and slowly turned her around. His hands slid underneath her arms and he pulled her closer to his body.

"I love you," Vilkas said softly. "Don't be afraid of me."

"I don't want to be," Sura pressed herself closer and this time she opened her mouth to him. His soft tongue, warm and gentle, explored her mouth, touched hers and lured it out to dance. He didn't push himself on her and his caresses were tender and soft. He was in no hurry.

He picked her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. His lips never left hers even when he slowly placed her among the soft blankets and plush pillows. She looked up at him and when he began to unbutton his shirt, she lifted her hands and helped him. One after another, slow and meticulous. When they reached the last button Vilkas took her hands into his and brought them up to his lips. He didn't want to miss anything, neglect her in any way. They had the whole night ahead of them. They could remain inside these walls as long as they wanted. He removed the flower wreath from her head and placed it on the table next to the bed. Then his finger once again found that dark spiral on the top of her other ear.

"Last time I didn't see where this ended," he smiled.

"It's a road," Sura pulled herself up to her knees and touched his face. Her lovely face looked down at him, her blue eyes serious and sincere. "A road to a place no one has ever seen. A road no one has ever walked before."

"Will you allow me to walk that road?" Vilkas' hands wrapped around her waist, he pressed his face against her neck and inhaled her intoxicating scent. "And see where it takes us?"

"And if...there are obstacles?" Sura caressed his hair.

"We will find a way together," he assured her.

"If there is a huge tree that we can't climb over?" she asked again with a trembling voice. "Or if someone...blocks the way?"

"I'm here with you," Vilkas whispered. "Right here. There is nothing for you to be afraid of. You say no, I will stop. No matter what."

"Thank you," Sura closed her eyes and pressed her forehead against his. She remained silent for a while. ( _"Go wherever your heart takes you, my dear. And never hesitate.")_  He only heard the wind whispering outside, saw the last rays of the sun when it began to set behind Lake Honrich. And then her quiet, shy voice reached his ear: "Then, you have my permission to walk on that road and see where it leads."


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains adult content. 18+

**60.**

His hands on her body were light like butterfly wings. Soft and tender. Delicate and smooth. And wherever his fingers touched his lips followed. Her arm, her shoulder, her collarbone, her neck, her cheek. As he slowly pushed the flowing fabric away she felt the cool wind on her skin. He noticed the goose pumps, stood up and closed the window. He returned to her and his warm body chased the cold away. The strong walls that protected her heart began to give away. The walls that she had put up to help her cope with what happened. It was cracking like an ice dam when the warm spring winds blew from the south. As his hands glided down her back and reached her behind, her head arched back, his lips caressed her neck and she sighed.

Her hands found the smooth skin of his stomach. Underneath his open shirt. She brushed it lightly. She was about to pull her hands away but Vilkas pressed his own hands on top of hers and guided her. His abdomen, his flat stomach, his hairy chest and all the way up to his neck, to his chin and to his lips. She noticed that her hands liked the way his skin felt. And so she allowed them to wander, to explore him and to find new places. She slid the shirt off his shoulders, leaned forward and kissed the skin that was littered with scars. Wherever she looked, there were scars. Old ones that she could barely see, new ones that were still visible and reddish. The scars connected to each other and told her a story. A story of her man, story of a warrior and a fighter. A man who had shed blood but also spilled it. A story of a man who was a human but also something else. Something dark and sinister.

While Sura's hands roamed his body, Vilkas carefully slid the dress off her and it fell to her waist. Her hands came to a complete stop and her blue eyes stared at him. She wasn't naked, underneath the dress she wore a simple undecorated breast band. But the last time they were so intimate, she was completely covered by a bedroll, Vilkas laid behind her and he didn't see so much. Now, under the bright wall scones, the candles and they dying rays of the setting sun she felt so vulnerable. Vilkas didn't touch her. He gave her time, as much as she needed. His eyes found hers and they told her that she was beautiful to him.

_"Never hesitate. Go wherever your heart takes you."_

She swallowed and lifted her hands. She so wanted to cover herself but not because she thought herself ugly. Because there were marks on her body...marks left behind by " _it"._ And the last thing she wanted was to bring that creature between them.

"I love you," Vilkas sensed her hesitation and took her hands into his. His voice was calm and sincere. "Everything about you. Your past, your present, all the things in between. They are part of you. I love you all of you. I didn't choose bits and pieces from here and there. I chose you. You. The one who used to be Zahraji. The one who now is Sura. We can stop here if you want. We don't have to go any further."

"No," she grabbed his hands. "I don't want to...stop..."

He smiled, leaned towards her and once again conquered her with his soft lips and warm kisses. His hands persuaded her to lie down on the bed. Gently he turned her over so that his lips found the sensitive spots on the nape of her neck. It was an odd, arousing feeling and she didn't even notice how soft moans escaped her lips. But Vilkas did. Those were good sounds, sounds he wanted to hear and produce. He smiled and continued on. He propped himself on his strong arms and traveled down her back. Soon his mouth met the waistline of the dress. He slid his hands back up and this time Sura squirmed underneath his touch. Her sides were very ticklish and sensitive and she let out a shy giggle.

Vilkas kept his own lust at bay. He was highly aroused, the throbbing hard-on in his pants was almost too painful. Hid blood demanded more, wanted more. But his respect for his beloved was too great. He didn't want to disgrace her or ruin this moment by hurrying along. And the last thing he wanted was her to remember that awful experience at Mistwatch. His goal was to erase all of that. After tonight the Orc would truly be dead and gone.

He pulled the dress away and laid it carefully down on top of the drawer. It was Sura's wedding gown, he didn't want to show disrespect towards that either. When he turned back to her, she peeked at him. Then she buried her blushing face back to the pillow. Vilkas smiled and touched her, ran his fingers down her spine. She reacted to his touch by arching her back and when he reached her behind she lifted her backside to the air and purred. Her tail swiped back and forth and twice it slapped him softly to the face. He was amused, laughter rumbled in his chest but he couldn't stop caressing that spot which made her act this way. And this particular sight, her face still buried in the pillow, her behind high up in the air, her claws squeezing the sheets, her tail wiggling like it had a mind of its own, all that was oddly erotic and arousing. Finally, Vilkas allowed his fingers to move on, down her silky tail and to the very end of its furry tip. Only then he noticed that the spiral ended somewhere in there.

"Well, aren't you a sneaky one," he smiled at his wife. "You tricked me last time."

"Why...whatever do you mean?" Sura asked with an innocent voice.

"This "road" of yours," Vilkas followed the path up from her tail, through her back and on top of her other ear. "You told me that it goes to the front. But it doesn't."

"It...it doesn't?" she looked at him like she didn't know what he meant.

"It starts from here," Vilkas caressed her ear. "And then it goes down here," his index finger once again traveled down her back. "And then...it fades somewhere at the end of your tail, doesn't it?"

"Really?" Sura turned to look where he pointed. "Oh...it does...how strange. I never noticed that."

"Strange?" his eyebrows rose. "You call it strange. I call it sneaky."

"Alright, I admit it. Are you terribly upset now?" Sura fluttered her lashes.

"Extremely so," Vilkas whispered. "I'll have to think of a way to get back at you."

His lips once again came to hers. And this time he turned her around so that she was lying on her back against the pillows. His mouth was warm and wet when it glided down her neck. He slowed down and felt her pulse underneath her skin, it was beating hard and fast. But her quiet cries told him it was not because of fear. His right hand brushed her stomach which was smooth and hairless. He lifted his face and this time he actually saw that her fur thinned out and completely ended somewhere around her collarbones. Her small breasts, which were still covered by the breast band, her stomach and her lower abdomen, were bare and soft. He wasn't sure was it just a trait for the species but to his eyes, she looked absolutely beautiful and desirable.

Sura inhaled deeply when his hands touched her breasts. At first, he circled the round mounds and then he concentrated his touch on her nipples, which became hard, small nubs. She pressed her head against the pillows, threw her hands up and jammed her claws into the wooden headboard. Vilkas' mouth drew a wet path from her neck down to her bosom. He slipped his hand underneath the cloth and she didn't even notice when he pulled the fabric away, she only felt a delicious hot feeling that pooled somewhere down in her stomach and between her legs. Unconsciously she rubbed her thighs together and he calmed her down by placing his hand on top of her right leg. His mouth tasted her skin, first between the low valley between her breasts and then it moved in small circles until it closed around her nipple. She gasped. Something dangerously hot was boiling inside her. She only hoped that she wouldn't burst into flames and literally light the bed on fire.  _Ice spikes, ice spikes! Not fireballs!_

Vilkas adored her body, every sound he heard. With every touch, he made the horrors of Mistwatch fade away, with every kiss he slowly erased the bad memories of her past. He looked up at her and when their eyes met, he saw that her gaze was filled with need. Filled with unsaid words and pleas. She wasn't able to speak them out loud but he knew where to go from there. He dipped his mouth and resumed his ministrations, his tongue, his lips and his teeth gently nipped and sucked her. At the same time, his other hand slid down her body, light as a feather. He stopped at her bellybutton and she giggled and squirmed underneath his touch.

Vilkas' hand continued on but he was having a very difficult time. His pants felt like they were about to explode. But he forced himself to concentrate on her pleasure and her enjoyment. The sounds she made were intoxicating and he wanted to hear more. His fingers traced the outline of her small clothes. He didn't want to go any further if she refused him. But when her hand touched him, when her eyes encouraged him, he didn't hesitate. With one fluid movement, he slipped his fingers inside her small clothes. Her breathing was now heavy and irregular. She couldn't remain quiet when his hand slowly dived deeper and mapped her molten core. She pressed her hands against her mouth to prevent the obvious moans and cries but now she was having difficulties to breathe.

Vilkas held his breath, he was very close to the edge himself. He tried to think of something else, mountain bears, snow storms, an ugly troll chewing an old, rotten piece of meat. He tried to think about the names of Tamriel's cities and different countries, but the first thing that popped into his mind was The Red Mountain. And that was of no help. He inhaled deeply, traveled down her body and his mouth found her stomach. She was wet and warm and tight underneath his exploring fingers. He didn't push or shove himself in, he slowly mapped her folds, explored and discovered the secret places that made her squirm and wail. He located the small, hard nub and circled it with his thumb. She cried out, lunged her claws into the expensive bed sheets and he heard the sound of ripping fabric. The image of her sharp claws on his back later during the night felt very alluring and enticing.

Sura didn't know how she drew breath anymore. Every fiber of being was concentrated on that small portion of her lower body. She had no idea that something so powerful could be ignited with such gentleness. When he softly pressed one finger inside her and slightly curved it upwards, she lost every rational thought in her brain. Up until now she was still able to think and analyze how this felt and would she able to give herself away. She had no doubts, no regrets, and no concerns. She spread her legs wider and he called for the Divines to help him. She felt how he slid her undergarments down her thighs and pulled them off. She opened her eyes and he once again looked at her. Asking for a permission. Ready to back off if she so wanted. She saw the sweat gleaming on his forehead and noticed the obvious bulge in his pants. He was holding himself off for her. And she had never felt such deep, overpowering love before.

She nodded and he tenderly nudged her knees apart. He kissed her stomach and her fingers dived in his hair. He felt how she pushed her lower and he was happy to oblige. When his warm mouth tasted her, her eyes widened and she inhaled sharply. She was trying to get away from him and at the same time pull him closer. She wasn't sure what she was trying to do. This kind of intimacy, this kind of pleasure was completely strange to her. But she enjoyed every moment. He used his hands to spread her open to his lips and to his tongue. Slowly he pushed a finger inside her, and when she didn't resist, he added another, turned his hand and curled his fingers upwards. His mouth focused on her hot, pulsating core that sent ways of pleasure all over her body. Her inner walls clamped around his fingers, she was breathing heavily, repeating his name over and over.

Vilkas was forced to unbutton his pants, pull them down and kick them away. There was no way he could contain his erection inside those tight leather trousers any longer. The pressure was released, momentarily. He was still wearing his breeches but he was determined to keep them on for a little while longer. To get his needs in control he once again focused on his wife and her pleasure. He glanced up at her. This was his woman, enveloped in passion, in the hot flames of love. There was no one else in this place, just the two of them. Vilkas moved his fingers in and out, his mouth gently suckled and licked her. Sura closed her eyes, her hands were on his hair, his shoulders, his arms. She tried to pull him up and keep him down at the same time. When her hands literally set on fire, when she felt the spells boiling beneath the surface, she waved the flames out and tried to keep her magical essence at bay.  _Ice spikes! Remember ice spikes!_ His mouth and fingers brought her closer and closer to the edge. And then she was pushed over, unexpectedly and suddenly, her whole body shook and her limbs began to tremble. She was convulsing, riding his fingers, tried to find something she could hold on to. A thin layer of sweat covered her, her toes curled up and her tail became fuzzy and electrified. She grabbed a pillow and smacked it over her face. Her claws ripped larger holes into the sheet but she didn't care. All that mattered was this moment, this man, this love.

Vilkas watched her. When she reached her peak and when she slowly came back down. He was relieved and happy to see that she was able to enjoy this. Before this night he had his concerns but now it felt like it was smooth sailing from here on end. He kissed her body up, to her stomach, to her breasts, neck, and chin. He pushed the pillow away and kissed her softly on the lips. When she opened her eyes, they both smiled. Her small hands touched his chest and slid down to the waistband of his breeches. Her eyes found him and she slowly pulled them off. When he felt her curious fingers on his erection, he bit his lip and held back a desperate cry. The iron chains that held him off were now very, very frail. She caressed him and stroked him, tried to familiarize herself with his manhood. He touched her chin, lifted her face and kissed her passionately. Then he slowly laid her on her back, settled between her legs and looked straight into her eyes.

"I love you," he whispered and kissed her forehead. "And I'll promise to be gentle."

She felt his hot, hard erection between her legs. It was trying to push its way inside her and suddenly a pain that was not supposed to be there stung her like a poisoned dagger. She didn't know what happened. She didn't want it to happen and for a moment she fought against it, tried to hold on to the warm, loving moments they just shared. But suddenly things changed. Vilkas saw it immediately and pulled away. There was pure panic in her eyes. She was completely frozen underneath him.

"Sura?" he whispered her name.

She stared at him with dead eyes that were strange and filled with terror. She began to tremble and when Vilkas tried to touch her, her hand came up, hard and desperate, her claws spread out and she ripped long, bleeding cuts on his upper arm. He didn't care about that, his main concern at this moment was his wife. She curled up in a ball, covered herself with her arms, her eyes were still wild and petrified. Vilkas wasn't sure what he could do. When he tried to approach her, she wailed, pushed her blankets aside and ran from the bed. She disappeared down the hatch that led to the basement. He wasn't sure should he follow her or not. His arm was tingling with pain and he realized he would stain the bed with his blood. He got up, pulled his breeched back on and glanced towards the ladder. Then he picked up a blanket and followed her. He found her cowering in the darkest corner of the room, naked and terrified. He knelt down and wrapped the blanket around her.

"Not here, not here," she repeated over and over again and her eyes were locked somewhere in the distance, looking at things that he would never be able to see.

He said her name, over and over again but she didn't hear him. She was once again sealed in that small, stinking cell, waiting for the Orc to come, listening to his steps. Those heavy, hefty footsteps that were still engraved to her mind. He was there, still alive. And Vilkas could do nothing but watch as his wife, the woman he loved, suffered in that lonely, horrible place where he could not follow.


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains adult content. 18+

**6** **0.**

He didn't count the hours. He was prepared to be there as long as needed. When she finally returned to him, it was early morning. He sat next to her but not close enough to touch. But right there so that he could easily reach out and hold her if she needed him. She flinched and Vilkas glanced at her. Sura blinked and then that terrifying lost gaze in her eyes began to vanish. After a few minutes her head moved, she looked around and saw him. She seemed confused but that turned into regret and then to sadness when she realized what happened.

"I'm...I'm so sorry," she wept and hid her face in her palms.

"Sura," Vilkas reached out to her, pulled her into his arms and gently rocked her from side to side. "There's nothing to be sorry about."

"I don't know what happened," she cried. This was supposed to be the happiest time of their lives. And here they were, in this dark, dusty basement, sitting on the cold floor, enveloped by bad memories, pain, and agony.

"It's alright," he hushed. "Everything is fine."

"I didn't mean to go there," she lifted her face. "I...oh Divines! What is that?"

She pointed towards the bleeding cuts in his arm. He completely forgot them. The wounds were still mildly throbbing but the bleeding had stopped and the dried up blood covered almost his whole hand.

"I did that?" Sura covered her mouth with his hands and another set of tears filled her eyes. "Me?"

"It didn't hurt," he tried to explain. "And..."

"Don't say it didn't hurt!" she got up and backed away from him. "How could I do something like that? Hurt you like this?"

"Calm down, love," Vilkas took her hands into his. "Please, just calm down."

"This is not right," Sura shook her head. "You should not have to tolerate something like this. Why did you want me? Why did you marry me?"

"That's enough," Vilkas embraced her. "Don't talk like that. I know who you are. I know who I am. And I know what I want. Neither of us is perfect. We just have to learn to live with that."

Sura could only cry in his arms. Desperate, lonely tears that came somewhere from deep within her. From a place, she thought she'd left behind. Because of something she thought she had buried and forgotten. But here it was, once again. Pushing between them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and her cries turned into screams. Vilkas just held her, there was nothing else he could do.

Finally, when the sun raised a couple of hours later, he carried her back to upstairs and laid her on the bed. She was exhausted and tired and he pulled the blanket on top of her. Then he walked to the kitchen table, picked up a wet cloth and cleaned himself up. The scratches on his arm were deep but already healing. His beast was quick to make sure he wouldn't perish or lose too much blood. He walked back to the bed and lay next to her, pulled her close to his body and hugged her. He didn't know what else to do to make her feel like she was protected and loved. After a little while, her body relaxed and he knew she fell asleep. Her breathing became steady and calm. At least she felt safe with him like this. He didn't feel tired and her pain released the beast within him. She was now married to him, she was his wife, the wolf wanted to protect its mate as well. If there was someone it could rip apart because of this, he would have gladly set it free. But that happened a long time ago. And it was so brutal that Vilkas didn't really want to remember. Usually, those particular memories were hazy and foggy but this one was clear and sharp and it came to him way too often.

He didn't want to fall asleep but when Sura woke up a couple of hours later, she heard his steady, calm breathing and realized that he succumbed to his dreams. Carefully she turned around and watched him. He was lying on his back, his eyes were closed and his face was peaceful. She had never seen him sleeping before; she knew his beast blood usually made him restless. She carefully leaned closer and wondered how deep his sleep was. Did she dare to move or would that wake him up? She looked at his naked upper torso. His broad chest was covered with hair. His arms were muscular and strong. His stomach flat and toned. There was nothing scary about him. So why had she reacted like that?

Sura quietly sat up and frowned. She didn't want to feel like this anymore. Everything had been so beautiful last night up until that one moment. Why did her body react like it did? She seriously analyzed her behavior and decided to go forth and try to forget what had happened. She grabbed the blanket and slowly pulled it down. He wasn't wearing anything underneath it and she openly stared at his body, marveled its flexible muscles and the skin covered with scars. Her gaze fixated on his manhood that was now soft and flat between his thighs. It didn't look scary at all. She glanced up, his eyes were still closed and Sura pricked her ears. No, his breathing hadn't changed either.

She knelt down and tossed the blanket to the floor. She wanted to touch his body but she wasn't sure where to begin.  _Don't think so hard!_ she told herself. Her fingertips brushed his abdomen. He flinched, she stopped and held her breath. When he settled down, she continued on. His chest hair was thick and tangled and her fingers dove between the strands. She enjoyed the feeling and she slowly combed them with her hands. The most interesting part of his body was below his stomach and her eyes found their way there, over and over again. She blinked when she noticed some movement down there. She pressed her index finger against her lips and watched as that soft, fleshy member came to life in front of her eyes. She was like a scholar in front of a new and mysterious object which she knew very little about. She hadn't even touched it and Vilkas's eyes were still closed. But even when it was hard and stiff like this, it didn't look scary.

Vilkas was wide awake but he kept his eyes closed and tried his best to keep his breathing calm and steady. As soon as her hands touched his chest, he was immediately awoken. He peeked between his eyelids and snapped them shut when she glanced at him. It seemed she wanted to "study" him in private and he was more than happy to allow that to her. If it alleviated her fears in any way, he was ready to lay here motionless, pretending to be asleep for the whole week if necessary.

Sura watched Vilkas and when there was no reaction, she turned her attention to the throbbing member in front of her. She lifted her hands and touched it, very lightly and gently. She poked it with her fingernail and it swayed from side to side. It twitched under her fingers and she smiled to herself. Not scary at all, she was actually having a pretty good time. She began to stroke it, slowly up and down. At that point, Vilkas had to bite his lip and he swallowed hard. He was forced to breathe through his nose and he literally felt like he was going to suffocate. Soon enough he would be gasping for air. Sura's eyes moved from his erection to his face. Her hands stopped. He tried to hold in his disappointment but then he felt her raspy tongue on his stomach. At that point, he couldn't remain quiet any longer. A sharp moan escaped his lips and he had to inhale deeply.

"I know you are awake," Sura whispered. "But pretend like you are not, please."

He nodded and kept his eyes closed. He was now able to breathe through his mouth and he panted when her warm, wet mouth closed around his stiff shaft. He slapped his hand on top of his mouth and his fist clasped the sheets. He did his best to remain quiet but it seemed to be impossible. When he let out a small whimper, he felt her sharp fangs sink into his flesh. She didn't bite hard and they didn't puncture his skin but he bit his lips tight together and decided he would not risk it. The last thing he wanted that his wife bit off the tip of his throbbing hard-on.

The word " _fear_ " was not the first thing in her mind when she bent her head down and took him inside her mouth. The scent of his skin, the warm feeling inside her lower stomach, the wetness between her thighs, and the way he struggled to keep quiet and let her enjoy this experience made her feel comfortable and safe. The thing in her hand was an interesting piece of male anatomy. She had never seen it so close and wanted to get familiar with it. And it seemed to react very strongly to her touch. She held it in her hands and gently nibbled the top. Something sticky was coming out of the small hole but it didn't taste bad. She glanced up a Vilkas. The look on his face worried her. He seemed to be in a lot of pain. Sura released him and wondered what she should do next.

_"Go wherever you heart takes you."_  Alright, mother, Sura pushed Namada out of her head. This was certainly not a time for her mother to appear. This was a time for her and for her husband. But what mother said held the truth, Sura realized. She should leave her irrational fear behind and put her complete faith and trust to this love that she and Vilkas shared. She looked at his face, his gorgeous body, his hard member and knew where that particular part was meant to go. Where it wanted to be. And where she wanted it to be. She didn't hesitate when she lifted her other leg and straddled him. At that point, Vilkas' eyes flashed open. Sura smiled to him, grabbed the headboard and leaned forward so that she was able to kiss him. Then she touched him with her other hand and guided him to the right place.

Vilkas embedded his hands deep into the sheets. He desperately wanted to touch her, lift his hands to her hips and help her but he knew she had to do this herself. So he remained motionless and didn't move a muscle. He was not able to hold his breath when her tight, wet inner walls closed around him. He moaned and her lips were on his, her hands buried into the pillow next to his head. She moved very gradually, she wanted her body to get used to him. Accept him. At some point, her hands began to tremble and she was sure the panicky feelings would return. But she took his hands and placed them to her breasts. And his soft, tender touch helped her to get over it. She lifted herself up, her claws dug down to his stomach but he didn't care. She lowered herself all the way and they both let out a cry of pleasure. Sura threw her head back, Vilkas wrapped his hands around her and propped himself up. He was completely buried inside her and the feeling was almost too unreal. Sura's hands touched his hair, she looked at him and he smiled.

"Do you still want me to sleep?" he mumbled against her lips. "I don't think I'll be able to."

"You seem to be wide awake," Sura laughed and her tender giggle turned into a cry of pleasure when Vilkas embraced her and lifted her higher.

He was careful with his movements but knew he wouldn't be able to last long. She swayed in his lap, her claws lodged somewhere down his back, her blue eyes were big and sparkling. His mouth found her neck and then her breasts and she moaned. The pleasure was building up inside her, his movements touched some magical place and every thrust made her feel more and more alive. She told him she loved him, that she needed him and she wanted him. She cupped his face and kissed him and tried to convey all the feelings she wanted to say but couldn't. There were no words for something this beautiful, even repeating " _I love you_ " over and over again wasn't equal to the immense pleasure she was feeling.

Their rhythm quickened, Sura grabbed the sheets and tore some more holes into them. She lifted her arms, the ripped cloth hanged from her claws and when she embraced him, the strips of fabric bound them together. Vilkas wasn't sure he could hold out much longer but he wanted to her to come first. And few frantic thrusts later he felt how she tightened around him, how her walls began to convulse, how she threw her hair back and how once again she released a spell that covered them in the cold mist. His skin crawled, he was hot and cold at the same time but the effect caused him to climax together with her. She was gasping for air, her blood was on fire but her skin was frozen. She heard the sounds but she couldn't see anything. Something heavy and deadly struck the wooden roof beams over her head.

Vilkas collapsed on his back and he pulled Sura with him. They lay there together, both trying to catch their breath. His eyes were closed and suddenly he felt like something cold and wet was dripping on his forehead. He peeked between his eyelids and noticed the two melting ice spikes high up in the ceiling. He smiled and felt very pleased. This time it was two. Last time it was only one.

"So," Vilkas said when he was able to breathe calmly. "Ice spikes once again?"

"Where?" Sura asked and looked where he pointed. "Oh, there. Good thing they landed there and not on your head."

"I don't think I would have noticed," Vilkas embraced her and laughed.

"Making love to a corpse is not my idea of fun," Sura replied but a happy smiled brightened her face as well.

"Good thing you are not interested in necromancy, my love," Vilkas planted a kiss on her forehead.

She was quiet for a while. Then she lifted her head and now her eyes were serious. "Thank you for being so patient with me."

He kissed her and pulled her back into his arms. Sura sighed, closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat. This was it, truly being alive and happy. To finally leave behind the plains of the misery of pain. She swore to herself that she would never, ever visit that place again. Inside her head, a heavy metal door closed. It was locked and the key was thrown away. And a few moments later the door disappeared into a thick fog. And she never again found herself standing in front of it.


	62. Chapter 62

**62.**

In the next few days, Riften was a happy place for the two of them. Wherever they went, everything they saw was beautiful. The autumn leaves that swooshed at their feet when they walked hand in hand in the woods, the gorgeous sunsets, and sunrises when they stayed outside the whole night, made love in the forest and at the shore by the lake. And when the light painted the mountains, the trees, and the water, they sat together, arms around each other and just enjoyed these rare, unique moments.

Sura had never been this happy before. She felt like Vilkas knew her every word, every thought, every idea. They were sharing a bond that was almost dreamlike, almost magical. Before she even said anything, Vilkas already knew what she meant. He knew when she wanted to crawl into his arms, lay her head on his chest and just be there, feel him and embrace him. And when she wanted something more, when her only wish was to get him out of his clothes as fast as possible. And that happened way too often after their first night. They were both consumed by passion, they made love whenever and wherever they could. When they killed three frostbite spiders, it didn't take long for them to be naked and rolling on the ground next to the stinking creatures that now reeked of poison and rotting flesh.

When Brynjolf came to visit he was literally shocked when he saw the state of bed. His head snapped towards them and Sura cleared her throat. Brynjolf's voice was a little too soft when he asked them had they any idea how much the bed cost to him. They shook their heads in unison. And how much it took from him to bribe Balimund - twice. Once again, the shook their heads.

"You two are way too lustful," Brynjolf sighed and rolled his eyes. "Why not do it elsewhere? I could have used this bed later."

"What?" Sura cocked her eyebrow. "You want it for yourself?"

"Yes, it would look great on my personal chamber," Brynjolf smirked.

"Get a new one," Sura told him. "Don't you have contacts?"

"This was the Emperor's bed," Brynjolf explained and when he saw a skeptical look on their faces he continued. "Well...alright, not exactly. But it belonged to a high noble in the Imperial City. Very close to the Emperor."

"Why would you want a wedding gift back?" Vilkas asked him.

"When did I say it was a gift, wolf?" Brynjolf looked at him. "It was a loan. I don't give expensive things away."

"He. Has. A. Name," Sura poked his chest and with each word she pressed her finger a little harder. "Use. It."

"Ow, that hurts, lass," Brynjolf rubbed his chest.

"It will hurt even more if you don't start calling him by his real name," Sura stated.

"You better obey her," Vilkas nodded. "I wouldn't risk it."

"That explains a lot," Brynjolf smirked. "But not everything. The countless holes in the roof and in the walls. You want to explain how those got there?"

"No," Sura smiled at him. "As far I remember, this is not your house. J'Ziir bought it and loaned it to us."

Brynjolf crossed his arms. This little sister of his had grown a lot. When she and J'Ziir first appeared back into his life, Raji was a little fidgety and timid. But now she stood her ground and didn't back away. Brynjolf was actually quite proud of her and knew that the biggest reason for her strength stood right next to her. Brynjolf didn't underestimate love. He had seen its power, felt it himself a couple of times. And he was pretty sure he was a tiny bit in love with Aura. That girl was irresistible. And if it was him and her, they would smash the bed too.

"Alright," Brynjolf hugged her. "I'll leave you alone. It seems to me that you two are way too eager to get rid of me and destroy that bed for good. Well, it's all yours. Just be careful of splinters."

Sura giggled and pushed him out of the door. And when she turned back at Vilkas, he glanced the bed and his eyes threw her a challenge.  _Why not take his advice?_ his eyes teased her.  _Are you brave enough, my love?_

"Are you doubting me?" she walked back to him and swayed her hips. When she reached him, her tail swooped up and the soft fur caressed his arms. "Do you think I don't have what it takes?"

"I don't doubt you, dear," Vilkas chuckled. "But if you keep shooting those ice spikes, the roof is going to come down on us."

"Oh, and that doesn't sound fun to you?" Sura kissed his neck.

"Buried in rubble and having to dig us both out?" Vilkas asked.

"Where's your adventurous spirit?" Sura cocked her eyebrow. "Didn't we already make love next to three spiders?"

"Umm...those were dead," Vilkas reminded her. "But the roof could still kill us."

"Hmm," Sura tapped her lips with her finger. "How about...we test out the basement? The floor and the walls are made of stone."

"And the roof down there is the bedroom floor," Vilkas couldn't hold his laughter. "And if that collapses, the heavy, Imperial bed is going to crush us both."

"Then we have no other choice but to go outside," Sura pulled him towards the door.

"What? To the porch?" he was genuinely surprised. "If someone sees us?"

"Then I'll kill them," she smiled to him as she swung the door open. "With my ice spikes."

"You're scary," Vilkas grabbed her into his arms. "But I love you."

Dark thunder clouds rolled over Lake Honrich and brought with it a grey veil of rain. It covered the city and drove most people indoors. But at the porch of Honeyside, the two of them were lost in each other. The rain didn't disturb them, the thunder or the lighting didn't reach their world. That private place they shared was filled with passion, love, and intimacy. There were no secrets, no shame, no pride. They both wanted to give as much as they could, let the other feel enjoyment and satisfaction. And as the heavy thunder slowly faded away, they laid in each other's arms and watched as the sun once again made the lake sparkle like diamonds.

Neither of them wanted to move. At first, Sura was sure that the never-ending bounding came from somewhere else, maybe the dockworkers had returned to the piers but when it didn't end she glanced at Vilkas. He also heard it and turned towards the door. He reached out and pulled it ajar. Now they both heard the loud banging coming from the front door. It sounded like someone desperately needed help. Vilkas stood up, pulled his pants on and walked to the door. Sura wrapped the blanket around her and listened. She didn't quite hear what happened but a man's voice said something about a note and Whiterun. Then she heard the door closing and after that...nothing. She walked inside and Vilkas was reading something. His eyes moved fast and with every passing moment Sura began to feel worse. His expressions told her that it was not good news. She tossed the blanket aside and dressed.

"What's happened?" she asked him. "Who's it from?"

"Farkas," Vilkas replied. He pulled his shirt on and buttoned it. Then he turned to look for his armor and when he found it, he began to buckle it up. "Something has happened."

"What?" Sura tried to reach his gaze. "Vilkas, please...you're scaring me."

"Kodlak and Skjor are dead," Vilkas mumbled. Everything suddenly and violently turned into a huge mess. Farkas's note wasn't very long but he understood most of it. "Aela is on some strange personal vendetta, The Companions are leaderless and Farkas doesn't know what to do."

"Dead?" Sura was shocked. "How...who killed them?"

"The Silver Hand attacked Jorrvaskr," Vilkas grabbed his sword and strapped it onto his back. "They're a group of people who hate and hunt werewolves. All they want is to kill us all and...if I don't go back this will all end up in a disaster."

"I'll come with you," Sura said and begun to gather her things.

"No," Vilkas stopped her and she looked at him, angrily. "Please, love. Just stay here for now. I don't know how bad things are but...I'd feel better if I know you are here. Safe with Brynjolf."

"But I want to go back with you," Sura insisted. "Maybe I can help somehow."

"I know you want to stay with me," Vilkas kissed her forehead. "And I want nothing more but to remain at your side. But this could be dangerous and I don't want you to get hurt. You are way too important to me."

"Alright," she sighed. "Alright, I'll stay, but not for long. Whiterun is my home as well and I want to go back."

"We'll get back there," Vilkas promised and kissed her. "And I'll be waiting for you when you come."

"Promise?" Sura embraced him.

"I swear," Vilkas stroked her hair.

He lifted her chin and kissed her gently one last time. He smiled at her, caressed her face and turned to leave. Sura accompanied him to the door. And when she saw his broad back disappear around the corner, a terrifying fear settled inside her heart. For some reason, she was absolutely sure she would never see him again. And suddenly a bright flash came to her. He gripped her head and tried to stop the images. It felt odd and it was exactly the same kind of feeling she had just before they arrived at Kynesgrove, all those weeks ago. Like a vision of something...

That time she saw a dead woman laying on a stone floor and someone yelling her name. This time she saw a small, dirty cell and a man crawling on the floor, wearing nothing but worn out bloody rags. Tortured and starving, caught in between two worlds where he could never escape. Sura shook her head and shut the door behind her. She leaned on it and closed her eyes. The image was gone and she didn't recognize the man in the vision. But she prayed that it wouldn't be Vilkas. And that he would be waiting for her in Whiterun as he promised.


	63. Chapter 63

**63.**

Vilkas didn't waste time as he left Riften. Abaccus was eager to leave, it lifted its hoofs and waved its head when it saw him coming. He patted its back, saddled it and left Riften. He felt bad for leaving Sura behind but he truly felt like she was safer here. Brynjolf would look after her. It was late afternoon but he wasn't about to stop for the night. Farkas's note worried him. Kodlak was dead, Skjor was dead and Aela's need to revenge Skjor's death took her wherever she felt necessary. She never admitted it but they were more than just shield-siblings. More than friends, more than family. And so he understood her pain but he also knew that her way was not the right way. He had no idea could he explain it to her and would he ever get her to listen. He understood that the Companions were falling apart. Farkas did his best to keep the place intact and the people in line but his messy handwriting told him that he was at his wit's end and desperately needed his brother back.

Vilkas had no idea what would happen when he returned to Whiterun. It seemed almost too obvious, Farkas wanted him to take the lead. But he never wanted to be the leader or take Kodlak's place. He was not able to give advice and he usually followed his instincts. Analyzing the situations thoroughly before making a decision sounded way too complicated for him. But Kodlak always managed that. To keep them all in line, see what bothered them, reach out and help them in their problems. And now his Master was gone. Skjor was gone. His older brother, the war veteran who saw almost anything Skryim had to offer, faced the beasts and creatures of the wild, the one who ran through the forests and under the moon with his fearless huntress. That brother was now gone. The Silver Hand had taken him. And the more he thought about it, the more his anger rose. And more agitated his beast became.

He rode through the forest and avoided the roads. It was quicker and faster and he decided to use the mountain path that passed Helgen and led to Riverwood. Abaccus was used to ascending the roads of Skyrim and didn't protest when he led it to the narrow, rocky road. The warm colors of Riften were long gone and as the night wrapped itself around him, the cold wind threw snow and ice at his path. It didn't matter to him, his goal was Whiterun and he was about to get there, one way or another.

Suddenly he felt how the wolf inside him broke his chains and the destroyed the heavy door. He knew it was regenerating and wanted to be set free. It had been patient; it had allowed him to spend unforgettable, loving moments with the woman he adored. It had allowed it because now the wolf considered Sura as its mate and out of respect for her, it stayed back. It had not interfered. But now it wanted to smell the cold air, it wanted to run through the forest and drink the blood of its enemies. Its captivity was over. And what made its blood pump harder were the deaths of its family members. Its master and its Shield-Brother were gone. It craved for revenge but Vilkas knew its time would come. He calmed it down, and pushed it back, it roared at him and wanted to emerge without his permission. He was forced to pull Abaccus to a stop and the stallion waved its head. It sensed its owner was about to change but it had seen this transformation many times and it knew it was safe. Even when the smell meant danger its trust to its owner was greater than fear.

Vilkas fought back, grit his teeth together and ordered the wolf to retreat. Now was not the time. No matter how much it felt like it was deprived of its freedom, he was not about to let it emerge. The wolf was enraged but Vilkas held it inside. And when his hands stopped trembling, he decided he was ready to move on. He knew this was just temporary. His grey eyes shone like gold coins and his vision was clear and sharp. The wolf was waiting for its opportunity. Vilkas shook his head and urged Abaccus to move forward. The stallion continued on the narrow path and the wind gained strength. The snowfall was heavy now, almost too blinding to see through. He wasn't exactly sure how far he was, the straight cliffs didn't tell him much and the path still led upwards. He wasn't able to see the stars or the moons, the air was filled with snow and ice.

Suddenly there was a human standing in front of him. Abaccus slowed down and the figure disappeared. Vilkas turned. There was someone behind him. Light steps in the snow. Following him. Normally he wouldn't have heard it but now that his eyes were blazing and the wolf's blood pumped inside him, his ears and his eyes were sharp and keen. He untied the leather string that held his sword in its place and was ready to pull it out. Then he listened. And heard nothing but the wind. He spurred Abaccus on. And after a while, he saw the figure in front of him again. This time it didn't disappear. It was a man and he stood in the middle of the path. Vilkas slowed down and glanced around. He heard footsteps and tried to count how many there were.

"Which one is that?" he heard a woman whisper.

"It doesn't matter," a man replied. "He wears that armor, he dies."

The attack came but he was ready. He didn't need to think what he did and Abaccus matched his moves perfectly. They worked in unison and the enemies he missed, Abaccus took care with his hoofs. He didn't count how many he sliced and killed, he didn't care that his armor was covered in blood. His eyes were burning and he felt that the beast was too close to the surface. But he was unable to concentrate on its needs and his own predicament at the same time. A man jumped on to him from a cliff above. He managed to push him off his horse and they rolled to the ground. He heard hurried footsteps and managed to avoid a sharp ax that was meant to split his head open. He swung his broadsword and beheaded his enemy. His blood splattered on him, covered his chest and his face and he tasted his blood in his mouth. And that's when the wolf took its chance.

For too long it had been shackled in that dark basement with iron chains. It was after blood and that's what it wanted to get. Vilkas dropped his sword to the ground. He barely saw them coming at him when he fell to his knees. His ribs were cracking, his joints were extending, his heart was pounding and his lungs felt like they couldn't produce the oxygen he needed. They were on fire. Abaccus rushed to his help and fend off the people who tried to attack him. And just before the beast snapped out of its leash, he saw how a strong, muscular Nord rammed his sword right through the stallion's neck.

And then, there was just blood and red haze and screams of terror. The taste of metal in his mouth, limbs being ripped off, and pieces of human flesh hanging from his jaws. His claws tore people apart and every cut that he received healed quickly. He heard words, they were shouting to each other and trying to surround him. In his beast form, he couldn't think straight because this animal only thought of feeding, only relished in its new found freedom. He tried to gain control, to push his rational mind on top and tackle the strong essence of the wolf but he was too late. They were throwing ropes at him and he realized they wanted to capture him alive. Their initial goal was to kill him and weaken the Companions even more. Because he was sure they knew who he was and where he was. That's why it had been so easy to ambush him.

Even the wolf realized that it could not fight while being tied up. So against its better judgment, it tried to run. But it was already hopelessly caught and every struggle caused the heavy ropes to squeeze tighter around its body. It roared and opened its massive jaws, its teeth, its tongue and the inside of its gums were blood read and few pieces of flesh hanged from its lower jaw. It trashed around but both Vilkas and the wolf knew they were caught and defeated. There was no way out. And then they came at him, hard and merciless. Punching, hitting, crushing with their feet, shouting insults at him, taunting him. They took out their sword and cut pieces of flesh out his body and they both screamed, the beast and the man inside him.

He didn't know how long it took for them to satiate their bloodlust but when they eventually pushed his mutilated body in a stinky old bag, he knew this was far from over. His wolf was defeated and it was crawling back into its dark basement. Even though he still wore its form he was starting to think more clearly. He knew it wouldn't take long till he regained his human form. And he didn't want to think about what they would do to him after that. Two of his fingers were cut off and his wedding band disappeared with them.

They tied the bag to one of their horses and began to drag him behind them. Sometimes one of them cursed and kicked the bag. As time passed he realized that Abaccus was dead. Kodlak. Skjor. Abaccus. One family member after another. Strong hatred began to sprout inside his heart. Now he truly understood what J'Ziir was feeling and what he had carried with him for all these years. And he didn't resent him or judge him. He wanted exactly the same thing. To revenge.

The journey was long and he had time to think. The stumps of his fingers were aching and painful. To prevent the raging need to kill and murder, to get his mind out of his current situation, he turned his thoughts to his wife. His beautiful woman. As soon as her face appeared in front of his eyes, sadness overtook him. He couldn't keep his promise after all. And he couldn't be there for her like he wanted to. Now it was up to Brynjolf and J'Ziir to protect her. He knew they would stop at nothing to keep her safe.

He glanced at his hand and wished that someone would find his ring. And if the Divines were on his side, it would find its way to her. At least that way she would have something to remember him by. And know how much he had loved her in his final moments.


	64. Chapter 64

**64.**

Sura arrived in Whiterun four days later. The carriage she took from Riften was slow and passed every little nook and cranny, small villages and almost empty houses. By the time she saw the silhouette of the Dragonsreach, she wanted to jump off the wagon and run the rest of way. When the carriage driver decided to stop at Honninbrew Meadery, Sura had enough. She grabbed her belongings and climbed off. There were only two other passengers in the wagon and both of them were asleep. She could hear their snoring even when she reached the stables.

How long has it been? she thought when she passed the small clearing where the Khajiit caravans usually set up their camp. How long since she left Whiterun and headed towards Riften? Weeks, months? She wasn't sure. But things had definitely changed for her. When she left she remembered some things about her past, but there was so much still left to uncover. And now that she returned, she was married to the man she loved and she knew who her parents were. She had a new brother she adored and her relationship with J'Ziir was getting warmer. She didn't regret leaving Whiterun, it was one the best decisions of her life.

The familiarity of the city surrounded her when she set her foot inside the stone walls. The smells, the sounds, the sights. Adrianne's steady hammer at her forge, the guards walking up and down the stone stairs, Mila and Lars running past her, smiling and laughing, Carlotta at her stand, selling fruits and vegetables. She realized that all of this was so dear to her and she missed it terribly. She walked through the Market and up to the Wind District and there she encountered the first thing that changed. The huge tree in the middle of the square was now blooming. Gildergreen was alive. Sura stopped and looked up, through the tree branches and admired the purple leaves and the flowers. It looked beautiful and lively. And seeing something that had been dead for so long return to life and bloom was an encouraging thing. Few guards passed her, greeted her and they also talked about the tree and how the Dragonborn did a huge service to the city by helping restore the Gildergreen. Sura smiled. Her ice cold brother was indeed slowly melting. When he first arrived in Whiterun he could care less about some dead tree in the middle of the city.

The smile stayed on her face when she turned towards Jorrvaskr. She looked at the great mead hall and wondered was that her home from now on. Vilkas lived there and shouldn't she live together with her husband. She couldn't imagine a situation where he stayed in Jorrvaskr and she would still have to live in the Dragonsreach. She would not allow that. She was too used to sleeping next to him now. She walked up the stone stairs, opened the heavy wooden doors and stepped inside.

A deadly silence greeted her.

The huge hall was empty, quiet and dark. The tables were clean, the fire pit was cold and extinguished, even the countless wall scones were snuffed out. She took a few steps and the sound of her boots echoed in the hall. This was not the welcome she was expecting. Jorrvaskr seemed dead and abandoned. Like everyone just took off and left and no one was interested to stay behind. She noticed dust and dirt covering the floor and wondered where Tilma was.

She laid her knapsack on the table and rubbed her arms. This place was cold. It didn't feel natural. And she didn't like it. She looked around and noticed a pile of firewood on the corner. She gathered up some, laid them on the pit and without even thinking about it, she waved her hands and ignited them. When the flames began to spread and light the room, she noticed that the windows were covered with heavy curtains. She shook her head and opened them. And as the light pierced the darkness she felt a little better.

"Hello? Vilkas?" she shouted. "Anyone?"

No answer. The doors to Vignar's and Brill's room were locked. And so was the door that led downstairs to the living quarters. She was getting more and more worried and the same nervous feeling that she felt when Vilkas left Riften settled around her heart. Finally, she sat down in front of the big table and decided to eat something. Sitting there by herself, all alone in a place that wasn't her home made her feel very uncomfortable. But she didn't know what else to do. Of course, she could head to Dragonsreach, someone there had to know what was going on.

She grabbed her things and headed towards the door. Before she could get there she heard how the door leading downstairs opened and someone walked up. She turned around, hoping to see her husband. She so wanted to run into his arms and feel like she was home now. And for a short moment, she actually thought it was him. But then he came closer and she saw his features. Vilkas' twin brother was very similar to him, but his hair was longer and he was taller and more robust than him.

"Kitty cat?" Farkas's eyes widened when he saw her.

"Farkas," Sura greeted him. "What's going on? Where is everyone?"

"Where's Vilkas?" he asked her and Sura blinked her eyes.

"What you mean?" Sura grabbed his arm. "He's not here? How is that possible? He left Riften four days before me!"

"Well, he never arrived," Farkas said.

"But...you sent him a note, didn't you?" Sura asked. "He left immediately when he got it."

"I did," Farkas nodded. "Things here are...as you can see. I've been waiting for him for days. It's just...I don't know what to do. I'm no leader. Kodlak and Skjor are dead. Aela...I don't know where she is."

Sura couldn't hear what he was saying. Vilkas hadn't arrived. Four days since she left Riften. And he wasn't here. She slumped on the nearest chair and her brains were trying their best to understand the situation. Vilkas wasn't here, Vilkas wasn't here...that's all she kept hearing. He is not here, he is not here. If he's not here, where is he? What's happened to him?  _Dead...dead...dead!_ No, no no! She shook her head. He wasn't dead. She wouldn't let that thought in her head. It would destroy her and make her unable to think and move. And she couldn't let that happen. Not now, not when she had to find out where he was.

"So, Vilkas is not here," Sura finally managed to look at Farkas. "If he's not here, where is he?"

"All I know is that he left with you all those weeks ago," Farkas explained. "And then I got a note where he told me you two were getting married. And the past few days have been a mess. The Silver Hand killed Skjor and Kodalk, Aela is lost in her retaliation, and Tilma died as well. The whelps have no idea what's going on and I'm left to hold down this crumbling forth."

"Tilma died also?" Sura couldn't believe her ears. "How?"

"I think Kodlak's death was too much for her," Farkas sat down next to her. "She passed away during the night."

"Alright," Sura nodded and felt suddenly very tired. "Alright. What are you going to do now?"

"I was hoping Vilkas would tell me, take the lead" Farkas sighed. "He's the only one who can pull us back together. But since he isn't coming back..."

"He will!" Sura interrupted him. "I don't care what you say. He's not dead."

Farkas didn't argue with her but since his brother had not returned, he was willing to face the facts that he'd lost his brother. He wasn't very smart but he knew what Skyrim was like. When the land took someone, it didn't give them back easily. But this woman sitting next to him was determined and very different from the Sura he knew before. She had changed. They were now a family. She was his sister-in-law. And since his brother wasn't here, he decided to unite his strength with her.

"You're welcome to take your things downstairs," Farkas told her. "This is your home now. I'm sure you know the way. I'll go and see if I can find Aela somewhere."

He left and Sura was alone once again. She knew that if she just stayed here and allowed horrifying thoughts to take her over, nothing would be solved. So she stood up, grabbed her things and walked downstairs. Like the mead hall, the corridor that led to the living quarters was dark and messy. It seemed that everyone was now eating down here, dirty plates and dishes were strewn around. When Tilma was alive, she made sure Jorrvaskr was cozy and comfortable. Now it was just cold and uninviting. There was no one downstairs and her lonely steps were the only sounds she heard. And when she arrived at the door that led to Vilkas's room, all the old memories suddenly ambushed her. She'd been to this room only once before. The kiss that they shared back then came to her mind and made her smile. Something important began in this room and when she opened the door, his scent immediately filled her senses.

His things, his bed, his table. His clothes and his books. All of his things were here. But he wasn't. The most important thing of all was missing. Her knapsack fell to the floor and she walked into the room. This didn't feel like home, this cold, foreign place. This dark, empty room where no one lived. She sat down on the bed, pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them. She didn't allow the tears to come because she was not mourning his loss. She refused to believe that he was gone. She was determined to get him back, find him wherever he was.

She closed her eyes, curled into a ball and laid on his bed. She wished things were different, and that they could be together like back in Riften. No matter what anyone else said about that city, to her Riften was always the place where she spent the happiest moments of her life. First the beautiful days of her short childhood and then the unbelievably happy days after her wedding.  _Please, come home soon_ , she whispered to the empty room.  _I miss you_. When she opened her eyes, she almost saw him there, sitting next to her and smiling. His hand caressed her cheek and she could feel his fingers on her skin.

"Where are you?" she whispered to him. "Why didn't you keep your promise?"


	65. Chapter 65

**65.**

In the following days, Sura didn't sleep much. She actually avoided sleeping whenever she could. The situation reminded her of the past when her memories were covered in fog and she only saw her family and what happened to it during her dreams. Except for this time she remembered her dreams and wanted to forget them as fast as possible. They were filled with blood and death, Vilkas' screams of pain and dying over and over again. The only way she could escape her dreams was to keep going until she was exhausted and completely drained. Only then she fell to the bed and slept like a corpse.

When Jarl Balgruuf heard of her return, he immediately invited her back to the Dragonsreach. Sura knew he would be disappointed if she refused him but she told him she was now married and would remain where her husband was. The Jarl frowned, he also knew that Vilkas hadn't been seen in Whiterun for weeks but he didn't argue with her. They spent an afternoon together and when she left Dragonsreach, he assured her that this was her home as well she could return whenever she felt like it.

Jorrvaskr turned into a dreary place. There were only a few people around and whenever Farkas saw her, he did his best to pour all his troubles on her. In a way Sura understood it. Farkas was a simple man, he didn't like complications and he only cared about killing, fighting, coin, and women. And now he suddenly was put in a position he knew nothing about. Sura tried to talk to Aela but she was still enraged and caught in her emotions. Her only goal was to destroy the Silver Hand and revenge Skojr's death. And with Aela gone many of the younger members suddenly begun to turn to her for advice and guidance. Ria and Athis were the first ones to seek her out. They understood the downfall of the Companions and they were worried. They shared their concern with her and asked her who was going to take Kodlak's place. As if she had any right to state her opinion on that matter. She could only tell them to talk to Farkas about it.

At the same time, she desperately kept searching for Vilkas. For her, it was obvious that the Silver Hand was behind his disappearance. She sent a note to J'Ziir but because she had no idea where he and Lydia were, she just told the courier to look for the Dragonborn. From the cities, from the villages, wherever he might be. But she knew she could not rely on her brother in this matter. She sent another note to Brynjolf. The Guild had connections throughout the land so they might have heard something. His reply was short. " _I'll do what I can, lass. No promises."_ His words made her hands tremble but she was not about to give up. She pestered Aela and the huntress gave her some information. But she told her not to go by herself, the Silver Hand was not to be underestimated.

She arrived at their first hideout and like an angry thunderstorm filled with lighting, fireballs, and sparks, she swept through their camp and left behind nothing but charred corpses and smoldering bodies. She searched the whole place but Vilkas was nowhere to be found. She felt nothing towards the people she just slew and deep down a quiet voice asked her what was happening to her. She ignored it and continued on. From the first place, she managed to find maps to other hideouts around the area and soon enough a rumor began to spread among the bandits and the hunters. A white female saber-tooth was prowling the forests of Skyrim. And she cared for no one else but the werewolf slayers. Everyone knew she was a Khajiit and no one mixed her with the real wild animal but as time passed on she was known by that name wherever she was seen.

After the first few attacks, the Silver Hand began to fortify their camps and hideouts. But in the end that didn't help them. She started using spells that she had never tried before. Atronachs and familiars took care of the enemies for her. And whenever she was wounded, her restoration spells were strong enough to pull her back and keep her going. Her part of Eye suddenly came to life. It glowed and sparkled like it did when Mercer almost managed to end J'Ziir's life. And often Sura saw Namada standing there next to her on the battlefield and all her wounds and cuts appeared on her mother's body. And despite all that, despite the pain she was feeling, the blood she was spilling, her smile was always warm and encouraging.  _"Go wherever your heart takes you. And never hesitate."_

When she returned to Jorrvaskr she saw Farkas and his eyes were filled with worry. And as Aela passed her in the mead hall, she stopped to her tracks and realized how similar they had become. Aela was out revenging Skjor and wiping out the Silver Hand. And she was looking for Vilkas and doing the exact the same thing. She took a deep breath and leaned against a heavy wooden beam. What am I doing? she asked herself. Have I forgotten who I am? Am I turning into J'Ziir? Or my mother? To someone who only lives for killing and destroying?

Slowly she walked back downstairs and sat on the bed. If she could find Vilkas, she would end this immediately and never, never turn to such a violent path. She was about to get up and clean herself when someone knocked on the door. Farkas entered the room with two young men. Sura glanced at him and wasn't sure what this was about.

"These two would like to join the Companions," Farkas explained and looked at her.

"Alright," she nodded raised her eyebrows. "And?"

"What do you think?" he asked her.

"Me?" Sura was confused. "Are you asking me?"

Farkas looked at her like he didn't understand what she meant. Of course, he came to her. Who else would he ask about such things? He knew that Ria and Athis often sought her advice concerning their troubles. At first, they came to him and he automatically guided them to Sura. And now that there were two potential new recruits, he obviously asked her what she thought. If she accepted, he would follow her advice.

In the past weeks, it was Sura who cleaned Jorrvaskr, who lit the massive fire in the mead hall, opened the curtains and made the place livelier. It was her who managed to lure Vignar and Brill back into the main hall. And she was the reason they were once again eating in front of the main table at the large hall. To him, she was Kodlak's replacement and the one person who seemed to know what was currently happening.

"Can we talk for a moment?" Sura pushed the two young men back in the hall. She tried her best to hold her anger in but it was boiling very close to the surface.

"What about?" Farkas asked.

"Why are asking me about this?" Sura demanded. "I'm not even part of the Companions."

"You're Vilkas's wife," Farkas said. "And that's good enough for me."

"You have no right to push this on me," Sura sighed and now the tears of exhaustion were drilling their way to out. "Why, Farkas? Can't you handle these things yourself?"

"Ria and Athis came to you as well," Farkas tried to explain.

"Yes, and I told them to seek advice from you!" Sura rubbed her face. "You are the closest thing to a leader that the Companions have right now. Please, just act like it."

"I told you before, I am not a leader," Farkas avoided her gaze.

"How can you and Aela be this selfish?" Sura cried. "Kodlak is dead. Skjor is dead. Vilkas is missing. I'm trying my best to find him and you can't even handle a few new recruits. And Aela...oh, don't even get me started. If she really cared about the Companions, she wouldn't abandon this place like this. She always said she respected Kodlak and listened to him. That she loved him. Is this how she shows her love? Doing what she wants and whenever she wants! What do you think Kodlak would say about this situation?"

"Aela cared for Skjor," Farkas muttered. He had never been reprimanded like this before and suddenly he felt ashamed and weak.

"And I love Vilkas!" Sura shouted. "But I'm trying my best to keep this place intact. So it wouldn't crumble to pieces. I feel that I'm the only one here who cares what happens to Jorrvaskr. And I don't even belong here."

Farkas tried to say something but Sura lifted her hands, grabbed her things and rushed out the door. She didn't care about the two men waiting outside. She saw Aela standing in the hallway, her face pale and her eyes burning with anger. The huntress heard her words but in her current mood, she couldn't care less. Aela was about the grab her hand and confront her but when Sura faced her, she backed away. Her eyes were emotionless and cold and their color had changed from blue to yellow. And the look in those eyes was very, very dangerous.

She left Jorrvaskr, passed the blooming Gildergreen and walked through the empty Market. It was almost night, she only heard noises from the Bannered Mare. Hulda was entertaining her customers throughout the night. She glanced back and knew she could return to Dragonsreach and no one would disturb her there. But she didn't want to go back to that small side room. She left that place behind a long time ago. She turned and moved on, her steps were slow and tired. They took her to Breezehome. She stopped and looked at the empty house. No one would disturb here there either. But the house was locked and there was no way in. Her knapsack fell to the ground and she had to support herself and lean against the wall. She heard voices and saw Carlotta and Mila walking towards her, probably on their way home from the Inn. Carlotta sometimes took Mila to eat at Hulda's. Sura prepared herself, took a deep breath and it took the rest of her strength to smile to the little girl and her mother.

"Sura," Carlotta greeted her. "How nice to see you here. Are you going somewhere?"

"Not really," Sura shook her head. "I was hoping J'Ziir and Lydia had returned but the house is still empty. I would have liked to see them."

"Oh!" Mila's face suddenly brightened. "I almost forgot."

"What is it, dear?" Carlotta asked her daughter.

"The Dragonborn gave this to me," Mila pulled out a note and a key and she handed them to Sura. "He said that I should give them to you the next time I saw you. Just in case."

Carlotta and Mila bid her goodnight and moved on. She heard Carlotta ask Mila when the Dragonborn had entrusted his house key with her. Mila just giggled and told her mother that she was a trustworthy person and his good friend. Sura stood there holding the note and the key in her hand, leaned against the wall and covered her eyes with her other hand. The tears weren't that far now. Her eyes were blurry when she opened the note.

_"Raji. Here's the spare key to Breezehome. In case you need a place to stay. Or to hide. Or to cry. Or to just hang out. It's not just my home now, it's yours as well. Use it when you need it. J'Ziir._

_P.S. Lydia hid the sweetrolls behind the counters. She tells me that I eat too much and they are not healthy. Don't touch the skooma, no matter what. I just replaced the furniture, for some reason the guards of Whiterun thought that I stole something from the Jarl and they ransacked the whole place. I hope I don't need to buy another table or new chairs when I get back."_

Even in this situation, J'Ziir knew how to make her smile. She opened the door and went inside. In less than half an hour Breezehome already felt more cozy and comfortable than Jorrvaskr in the past few weeks. She sat down before the fireplace and watched as the flames consumed the wood. The warmth, the food, and the mead made her feel a little better. But the need to find Vilkas didn't disappear. It had been weeks and the hope of finding him alive dimmed with every passing hour. But she wasn't about to give up. She pulled out a map and marked down every hideout she had been to. Aela had always been very reluctant to give out her information but she wasn't worried about that. And she didn't feel like she needed J'Ziir to come back and resolve this situation for her. She realized that she was now strong enough to do this by herself. And not once she allowed her heart to believe that Vilkas was dead.

She lay down by the fire and wrapped herself in a warm blanket. She knew that tonight she could sleep without bad dreams. She closed her eyes and her determination gave her courage. Her part of the Eye was glowing. She would find Vilkas alive. And she would destroy anyone who dared to stand in her way.


	66. Chapter 66

**66.**

J'Ziir and Lydia arrived in Windhelm three weeks after they left Riften. The air was cold and filled with snow. They left their horses on the stables and passed the great stone bridge. But when the guards prevented them from entering, Lydia was shocked. J'Ziir wasn't. He knew the drill. No cats allowed in the cities. Unless you were the Dragonborn. Then they all melted and begun to lick his boots. And all he wanted was to crush their faces and move on.

It had been a tiring three weeks. First, they had led Esbern to Riverwood and from there to some Nordic ruin that was now taken over by the Forsworn. After fighting through them they managed to locate the old temple which was now the headquarters for the Blades. Delphine was very high and mighty and kept giving orders to J'Ziir. At the same time, she talked about how the Blades were meant to serve and protect the Dragonborn. He did his best to ignore her.

When Esbern told him once again to head towards High Hrothgar, he nearly punched the old man to his face. But Lydia was quick enough and grabbed his arm. She told Esbern that of course, they would head there because defeating Alduin was the most important thing right now. When they arrived at Ivarstead, J'Ziir told Lydia to stay behind. Once again she refused but this time he didn't have to drag her up the mountain. Now they both had horses that took care of the climbing. When they reached the monastery, J'Ziir remembered the last time he was here. And his incredible insanity, talking to a nonexistent Lydia and trying his best to get away from her. This time he wasn't about to go through the same thing. He talked to Arngeirn who seemed to despise the Blades. But he was reluctant to help him and after arguing with the old monk and trying his best not to punch him out of existence, Arngeirn finally gave up. He took him out to the courtyard and taught him a new Shout. He said that he was now ready to meet their leader, Paarthurnax. He would guide the Dragonborn the rest of the way.

He left Lydia behind even though she wanted to follow him. When he threatened to shout her off the mountain, she frowned and finally gave up. Then she turned around, swayed her hips and declared that she would seduce one of the monks while he was gone. J'Ziir didn't really believe that but he turned back twice until he was able to go on. And even when he climbed up the mountain path, he wondered would Lydia really do what she said. And which of the old men would she choose? To him, all of them seemed unattractive and a bit creepy, but he wasn't a young Nord maiden. Maybe the wise, older men seemed appealing to her. And then an image of Lydia popped into his head. She was sitting on Arngeirn's knee, caressing his beard and giggled into his ear. He stopped and almost gagged.

He forced his mind out of the gutter and resumed climbing. When he finally arrived at the top of the mountain, he suddenly faced an old dragon who declared that he was the leader of the Greybeards. J'Ziir wasn't surprised. He didn't even flinch. And he had no intentions of slaying this beast and absorbing his soul. Actually, he avoided that whenever he could. Every new soul that was forced into his body was more painful than the one before. He felt like he was running out of space. He was a closet where someone tried to push new clothes and even though the closet was full, there were still new clothes that needed space and they were pushed inside forcefully. Whenever he saw a dragon flying about he turned around as fast as he could.

The old dragon was actually quite intelligent and interesting. J'Ziir didn't even notice he spent hours upon the mountaintop listening to him. Paarthurnax told him about the Dragon War and revealed that he was an ally to Alduin during that time and committed some great atrocities against mankind. Eventually, he was the one who turned against his brother and helped humans to defeat the World-Eater. At that point, J'Ziir yawned. The World-Eater was hardly defeated, he pointed out. Wasn't that black lizard flying around and waking others of its kind. Seems hardly dead to me, J'Ziir answered. Paarthurnax agreed. The heroes of old only managed to banish Alduin from the current time and send him to the future. That was why the World-Eater still existed and terrorized Skyrim. Paarthurnax was silent for a moment. Then he said that Alduin was not the only enemy he should look out for. J'Ziir sighed. He knew all this, there was no reason to remind him that he was not that popular in all the corners of Skyrim. Paarthurnax ignored him. He muttered something in the old dragon tongue, something J'Ziir couldn't understand or missed because he was too tired. Then old dragon continued telling him about the Dragon War and how they could now defeat the World-Eater. He needed to learn a shout that the heroes of old used. And to learn it, he would have to return to that specific time and place when the three used it against Alduin. The only way to do that would be through an Elder Scroll.

After listening to everything Paarthurnax had to say, J'Ziir left the mountain and returned to the monastery. He half expected to find Lydia drinking mead with the monks and dancing naked out in the courtyard but instead she was reading something at the main hall and yawning so that her jaws almost misplaced themselves. J'Ziir told her that they were leaving High Hrothgar. Lydia seemed awfully happy and smiled at him. J'Ziir glanced at her and asked did she manage to seduce one of the monks. Lydia grinned, told him that they did the  _deed_  while he was up on the mountain and now there was only one man she wanted to seduce and he was not a Nord.

On their way down J'Ziir told her that they needed to find an Elder Scroll and Lydia's eyes widened. Where would they find such an artifact? It wasn't something they could just stumble upon in a cave filled with bandits or some draugr infested Nordic ruin. Just to find the information would be difficult. She reckoned that their best bet would be the College of Winterhold, they had an impressive library.

When they arrived back to Ivarstead a courier was waiting for them. He handed a note to J'Ziir and the messy handwriting revealed that it was from Brynjolf. His brother was kind enough to remind him that as the Guild Master he should spread their influence in every corner of Skyrim and get rid of the competition. He suggested -  _ordered_ , J'Ziir read between the lines, that he should head to Windhelm. Another thief organization was trying to take over the region and they would have none of that. Who does he think he is? J'Ziir crumbled his note and tossed it away. Giving orders to me, his boss.

They stayed at the Inn for two nights. In separate rooms. And all the time J'Ziir wanted nothing more but to invade Lydia's room and crawl into the same bed with her. But he resisted his mad urges and forced his thoughts to other things.  _Windhelm._ The end of his path. The fort of his enemy. The city he hated more than any other in Skyrim. And now he felt an irresistible need to head there. To test the waters. To face his enemy before taking him down. The Elder Scroll would have to wait. This was more important. And he killed enough dragons in the past months to keep most of Skyrim safe. If the citizens could not handle one or two lizards by themselves, then they were more helpless than he thought. Then they were not worth saving at all.

And so, here they were. At the gates of Windhelm. And his heart was bounding. When the guards refused to let them inside, Lydia took control and declared that this was the Dragonborn of Skyrim. That they should be honored to meet him. That they should bend their knee in front of him and thank him that he was willing to save their worthless asses. J'Ziir cleared his throat and covered his laughter with a cough. Lydia was getting better and better at this. Each time she added something new to her speech and each time the guards were confused and ashamed and opened the gates without arguing. This time was no exception. They were allowed to go inside and when they stood there, inside the walls of Windhelm, J'Ziir felt very agitated and uncomfortable.

The first thing they saw a drunken Nord insulting a Dunmer woman. His words, his attitude, and his mere arrogance immediately caused J'Ziir to tense up. When the Nord walked towards him and begun to spew his poison, he lost his patience and smacked the man right into his face. He held his fists with Esbern and with Arngeirn, he was not about to hold them off this time. The guards came running and the drunkard rubbed his broken nose and whined how the skooma addicted cat suddenly attacked him without a reason. Once again Lydia managed to save the situation by declaring that her Thane was the Dragonborn of Skyrim and if he really wanted to hurt someone, the Nord would already be dead. The guards immediately settled down and the coward who had been so high and mighty slinked away without a sound.

Lydia nudged him and frowned. She whispered to him that once again she came to his rescue. He wouldn't manage a day without her. Her unsatisfied expression turned into something quite different when J'Ziir grabbed her, pulled her closer and planted a quick kiss on her lips.  _Here's your reward, housecarl!_  Then he left her standing there, a stupid smile on her face while he walked towards the Inn.


	67. Chapter 67

**67.**

Candlehearth Hall was quite empty on the night of their arrival. Lydia got them two separate rooms and she smiled when she told him that there was a door between the rooms. Just in case, she winked at him. J'Ziir rolled his eyes and told her that he would lock the door from his side.

"Sure you will," Lydia kept smiling when they walked down the hallway.

"What? You don't think I will?" J'Ziir grabbed his key from her. "You think you're so irresistible, don't you?"

He still heard Lydia's soft laughter in his ears when he entered his room. He scanned around, saw the wooden door between the two rooms and walked to it. He was about to lock it but then he heard Lydia's steps as she walked around. And then something metallic clunked to the floor. Was it her sword or her armor? The image of her walking around in that thin, see-through shirt on caused him to frown. And once again he lifted his hand to the lock. And then Lydia's steps stopped right next to it and J'Ziir held his breath. What was happening? Was she this bold? That she would just open the door and walk in? In that see-through shirt of hers...

"Why didn't you lock it?" her voice asked and J'Ziir heard her smile through the door.

"I was going to," he mumbled. "I will."

"But the lock is on this side," she answered and then he heard a small click. "Well, it's closed now. You don't have to worry about it anymore. Good night, my Thane."

Her soft steps walked away, she was probably bare feet. J'Ziir's hand was still hovering on top of the door handle and then he cursed aloud. He could almost hear Lydia giggling in her room and he had the sudden urge to bash the door down and... _and then what_? he asked from himself as he backed away and began to remove his armor. Attack her? Kiss her? It wouldn't make a difference, he thought as he slumped to the bed. Lydia would win in the end and he would end up tangled in her arms. Attacking her with his kisses...

He was having way too many difficulties to sleep that night. And when the morning came and the wind was still howling and the snow was still whirling around the gloomy city, he definitely knew he hated Windhelm. Lydia was up early and flashed him a bright smile when they met each other at the hallway. J'Ziir's eyes were red and he was feeling exhausted. All night, tossing and turning. Seeing Lydia here and seeing her there. And when he finally had a wink of sleep, he imagined that Lydia opened the door between the rooms and walked in, naked. He wasn't sure was he thrilled or horrified. But he was clearly noticing his own need for her. And that made him angry and gleeful at the same time. And he had never felt so twisted before, so clearly torn in two different directions.

In hopes of forgetting Lydia for a moment, they left Windhelm and headed towards the Uttering Hills. The Summerset Shadows were a small band of bandits and their presence was barely a nuisance to them. While Lydia made sure that all of them were dead, J'Ziir looted the bodies, the chests, and the barrels. And once again Lydia reprimanded him. She didn't like it when he stole from the dead. And during the months they had traveled together, J'Ziir began doing it behind her back. When she wasn't looking. One more thing he didn't understand tormented his brain. Why her opinion suddenly mattered to him.

They arrived back to the city in the late afternoon. J'Ziir was tired and just wanted to head back to the Inn and take a nap. But before that, he wrote a note to Brynjolf telling him that the Summerset Shadows were wiped out. And that he should never again send him " _orders_ " considering the Guild. Take care of these things yourself, brother. Send one of your lackeys to do the job. At the Inn, he ignored Lydia, headed straight to his room, locked the door and fell to the bed. He was fast asleep as soon as his head hit the pillows. An annoying knock woke him up a couple of hours later. When he turned to his back, he realized he still wore his armor and the smell of dried up blood and pus filled his nostrils. He was already irritated when he got up from the bed. And when he swung the door open saw three armed guards standing there, the irritation quickly turned into rage.

"Dragonborn," the masked guard began. "Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm would like to invite you to dine with him. Please, follow us to the Palace."

"I'll go if I feel like it," J'Ziir growled and slammed the door to their faces. Then he opened it again, yelled out to the Innkeeper and she sent out two strong men to carry him a bathtub and warm water. The guards were still standing in the hallway when he closed the door on them the second time.

The whole evening he was thinking should they go or not. This wasn't the reason why they came to Windhelm. They came here because of the Guild.  _Stop fooling yourself!_ You came here knowing you would meet him. And when did things get so complicated? Don't you remember Helgen? When the only thing that mattered was killing him. Dying afterward didn't matter. When did that change?

_It changed with Raji. And it changed with Lydia_ , a stubborn voice in his head whispered. When you began to care. When you began to have feelings for her. And when there are feelings, things get complicated.

He bathed, changed his clothes and then he left his room. The guards were gone but he knew they were keeping an eye on him. He knocked on Lydia's door and when she opened a few seconds later, he told her to put on some nice clothes. They were heading to the Palace for a late night dinner. With the Jarl of Windhelm himself. Lydia frowned. She didn't like the sound of this but she changed her outfit and they left the Inn. And even though the distance between the Palace and the Inn was short, J'Ziir couldn't keep his eyes off her. Her dress wasn't even that fancy, just a normal cotton dress that covered her arms and legs and other parts of her body. But his eyes traveled to places where there was no coverage, to her neck and to her lower arms. Where her skin was so much smoother than his. And when she caught him staring, he cleared his throat and walked faster.

They arrived at the Palace and were let in by the guards. The big main hall was empty and quiet but as they walked in, the Jarl himself entered the throne room. J'Ziir stopped and tried his best to prevent the past from confusing the current situation. He heard whispers, his parent's voices, this man's voice and the voices of the hundreds and hundreds of elves who kept him as their slave for nearly twenty years of his life. All because of this man. And here they were now, standing under the same roof. And it would take so little just to end all of this. His need for revenge hadn't cooled down but he was patient. His revenge stood next to him and its smile was crooked when Jarl Ulfric walked up to him and greeted him. It leaned closer and whispered that the time would come. Just wait a little longer.

"Dragonborn," Jarl Ulfric said. "Finally. I have heard so much about you."

"That's why you send your dogs to fetch me?" J'Ziir snapped. "I'm an animal that needs to come when it's called?"

"I apologize," Jarl Ulfric said and was not offended by his words. "Maybe I was just a little too eager to finally meet the legend of our land."

They stared at each other for a while and then the Jarl turned to Lydia. He was not the kind of man who usually was taken in by women, but this Nord maiden standing next to the Dragonborn was a beauty indeed. And he was a bit surprised when he sensed that there was something going on between these two. He was having difficulties believing that a Nord would actually consider a Khajiit or an Argonian. Surely there were plenty of men of her own race ready to throw themselves at her feet.

"And this young lady?" Jarl Ulfric said with his deep voice. "A pleasure."

"She's my housecarl," J'Ziir replied and his eyes narrowed when he saw how the Jarl's hand touched Lydia's palm. "A servant, nothing more."

"Nothing more?" Ulfric smiled. "Well, it's a rare occasion that a servant gets to dine with her Thane and with the Jarl himself. However, I welcome you both to share the table with me tonight."

It was rather weird to sit in front of that tall table in the empty throne room. Jarl Ulfric was sitting at the head of the table, Lydia to his left and J'Ziir to his right. The conversation wasn't very lively and only Lydia kept them from falling into complete silence. Her voice echoed in the large room and occasionally her bright laughter bounced from wall to wall.

"I have to admit," Ulfric began. "This is the first time I'm having a dinner with...a Khajiit. Although I used to know one very well. He was a remarkable person, let me tell you."

"How interesting," J'Ziir was barely able to hide his yawn and Lydia nudged his leg under the table.

"He was a mage," Ulfric continued and J'Ziir's ears twitched. "You rarely see Khajiit mages. The elves usually hold most of the magic in Tamriel."

"And you were...friends with this mage?" Lydia leaned in to ask.

"Friends?" Ulfric smiled but his eyes didn't move from J'Ziir. "No, not really. I asked him to do some research for me. Magic doesn't interest me. If a Nord can't defend himself with his sword, then he is not worth saving. But like this land, its people are very stubborn and set in their ways. And sometimes...magic has its uses."

"Like bending people's will?" J'Ziir insinuated and Ulfric's smile widened.

"More like showing them the right way," the Jarl corrected him. "I mean, when can Skyrim truly claim independence if its people are not united under the same cause. This land doesn't belong to the Elves, to the Argonians..."

"Or to the Khajiits?" J'Ziir suggested and Ulfric grinned. "Isn't it strange though? That the Dragonborn is a Khajiit? Shouldn't that honor belong to a Nord?"

Ulfric didn't answer and Lydia glared at J'Ziir. He stared back at her and with eyes that were filled with anger.  _What are you trying to do?_  Lydia silently asked him.  _Challenge him? He is the Jarl of Windhelm!_

_I don't care what he is!_ J'Ziir yelled back at her. _He's a human and bleeds like any other when stabbed._

"In honor of the Dragonborn," Jarl Ulfric waved his hand and the steward brought in some wine. "Let us toast."

He poured some wine in two silver goblets and offered the other one to J'Ziir. As soon as he lifted it under his nose, he smelled the poison. Not enough to kill, of course not. But enough to give him a subtle warning. It was spiced wine from Solitude mixed with some Frostbite. J'Ziir knew how it would affect him. Few muscle cramps and convulsions, the familiar red haze in the edges of his vision, maybe some dizziness, nothing serious. It was not the Queen's poison. He had been used for live testing before so this was nothing new to him. He raised his goblet, the Jarl raised his eyebrows and watched as he drank the wine. Then he placed it back on the table and met Ulfric's gaze.

The poison hit him and it was like a hot, metal needle was stuck in his stomach. It was Frostbite but something else as well. Something he didn't recognize and what made the minor effects stronger. It was clearly visible in his tail, the fur became electrified and fuzzy. And even though his hands began to tremble, he didn't flinch and his sharp eyes didn't move from Ulfric's face. The Jarl smiled and sipped his own wine very carefully.

"This wine is very special," Ulfric explained. "Spiced wine from Solitude is famous throughout the land. But add some ground ice wraith's teeth and it becomes remarkable, don't you agree?"

"Sure does," J'Ziir answered.  _As if that's all you added._

Lydia was confused. She glanced at her Thane and then Jarl Ulfric. The two men seemed very tense and she was sure something terrible was happening. And somehow Jarl Ulfric was winning, whatever it meant. She didn't even know that these two men were at war but now it seemed obvious that was the case. So she decided that enough was enough. She stood up and cleared her throat.

"My Thane," Lydia spoke to J'Ziir and when he looked at her, his eyes were very strange, watery and hazy, and she was getting very, very worried. "Shall we go? It's getting quite late."

"Is it really?" J'Ziir asked and something about his voice sent chills down to Lydia's spine. Is he slurring? No, couldn't be...

"Very well," Ulfric smiled and stood up signaling that he was ready to retire for the evening. "Dragonborn, it was a pleasure, indeed. And of course, your lovely housecarl certainly brightened the evening."

"She sure knows how to do that," J'Ziir pushed the chair back and suddenly the room began to spin. He concentrated on his breathing and bit his tongue, and when the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth, his vision was once again sharp and piercing. He refused to go down this easily.

Ulfric nodded his head, called to his steward and asked him to accompany the Dragonborn and his housecarl to the Inn. He smiled when he glanced at J'Ziir and said that he looked a bit sick. Lydia grabbed his arm but J'Ziir had no intentions of hitting Ulfric. No, that would be way too easy. He had entirely different plans for the Jarl of Windhelm. J'Ziir yanked his arm out of Lydia's hand, turned his back and left the Palace. Lydia hurried after him and when they reached the Inn, she was right at his heels. And she was determined to follow him into his room if necessary because she knew nothing was as it should be.

"Go back to your own room," he snarled at her when she refused to leave him.

"I will not," Lydia stared at him angrily. "What is going on? What just happened?"

"Nothing you need to worry about," J'Ziir closed his eyes, sat on the bed and tried to get his body to relax. His fists opened and closed and he tried to calm the convulsing muscles in his upper arms. His heart was beating too fast and there it was, the unmistakable red haze at the edges of his vision. The same one he remembered from the time of his captivity. The same one he hated and hoped he would never have to see again. It twisted his vision and his eyes felt like they were bleeding even though he knew that was not the case.  _Calm down_! he told himself. It will pass soon, very soon.

"What can I do to help?" Lydia sat beside him. "You want to lie down?"

"It's har..harder to breathe if I lay down," J'Ziir stuttered. "It will pass. I'll be fine, just go..."

"Don't be ridiculous," Lydia slapped him gently in the arm. Then she stood up, walked to the door and yelled out to the Innkeeper. A few seconds later she walked back in with a soft cloth and a bowl filled with fresh water. She doused the cloth and wiped his forehead with it and he felt a bit better. Not much, he hated cold water. But no one had ever done anything like this to him. No one ever cared. Maggots only cared when his flesh was rotten enough to be eaten.

Maybe it was her duty or maybe she sat there because she wanted. It didn't matter to J'Ziir, at his moment he felt rather good to have her around. At least he wasn't locked in a gage, freezing cold and just counting the seconds for the sunrise that would eventually burn him so that the iron shackles would peel off layers and layers of dead skin. He remembered thinking that the maggots were the only ones who weren't starving in that place.

A few hours later they were still sitting next to each other on the edge of the bed. Lydia still refused to leave although she was getting rather tired and J'Ziir was feeling better. He knew that it wouldn't take long for him to be able to move and leave the Inn. His first stop would be at the Grey Quarter. There was a Dunmer he needed to talk to. His second and probably his final stop would be at the Palace. In Ulfric's private chambers where only one of them would walk out alive.


	68. Chapter 68

**68.**

Night arrived and he entered the Grey Quarter. He left Lydia back at the Inn, she eventually fell asleep on his bed and without waking her, he changed to his armor and left. The poison in his veins was now completely gone and he was once again fully in charge of his own body. But his blood still boiled. Not because of the Frostbite, but because of rage. It was like skooma in his veins, it willed him to end this as fast as possible. But his patience was there once again, smiling behind his shoulder and calming its furious brother down. It whispered its plan to him and its smile was so convincing and assuring that he followed its lead.  _That's a good boy_ , it soothed him.

The slums where the Dark Elves lived were dirty and cramped. Houses were built on top of each other, narrow snowy streets cutting paths into the stone structures. Most of the shacks were small and cold and their windows were dark and lifeless. He passed the corner club and heard voices from within. Drunken laughter, women's voices, giggling and snickering. Even in this wretched place, the elves seemed to find their way to enjoy life's little pleasures. The place was so dark and dreary that he understood their need to bury themselves in more pleasant things, in the bosoms of willing women and in the warm embrace of their arms.

His steps were light and silent, he didn't need to think when he moved. Like a ghost, he entered a small clearing and saw the man he was looking for. He was wearing a dark leather cuirass. His whole body was covered, there was a bow on his back and a small dagger on his waist. He was kneeling next to a little girl and covered her with a warm blanket. The girl was asleep on the bench and a small flower basket lay on the ground next to her. It contained few red mountains flowers which were already wilting in the cold.

When the Dunmer heard his steps, he stood up, pulled out his dagger and faced him. J'Ziir stopped and raised his other eyebrow. The assassin's ears were very keen. But if he was good at what he was doing, he needed to be alert at all times. J'Ziir studied his face. Dark, lifeless eyes, black, wavy hair and a long beard that was tied to a knot. He had some curious face markings and they almost vanished into his dark blue skin.

"Ah, the famous Dragonborn," the assassin smiled when he recognized him. "A pleasure."

"Is it?" J'Ziir glanced at the dagger that was still pointing towards him.

"One can never be too careful," he answered and seethed his weapon.

"Why you wanted to see me?" J'Ziir crossed his arms.

"Straight to the point," the assassin laughed. "I've heard a lot about you. Lots of rumors, lots of mystical, unearthly tales. Some say you are a living God, others call you a necromancer who recruits the dead. At least one thing was true. You don't waste time, do you?"

"And neither should you," J'Ziir said. "Get to the point."

"You see that little girl?" the assassin pointed to the child that was sleeping on the bench. "She's all alone in this world. An orphan. Sometimes I come here and leave small things for her. Food, warm blankets, new shoes if she needs them. We often neglect those who are the weakest."

"Yes," J'Ziir agreed and his smile was sarcastic. "I heard of your little " _visit_ " to the Orphanage. As far I can tell, the children are very grateful to you."

"I'm quite proud of that myself," the assassin nodded and he looked self-assured.

"Tell me what you want," J'Ziir sighed. "So I can get on with the night."

"I need information," the Dunmer said and now his face was serious. "Simple as that."

"Don't you have your own way of finding out these things?" J'Ziir rolled his eyes.

"You tell me all you know," the assassin said. "And I'll show you a secret passage into Jarl Ulfric's private chamber. I will even give you some powerful paralyzing potion you can use against him."

J'Ziir's eyes narrowed. He was not used to people knowing too much about his plans. How this Dunmer knew all of this caused him to be on his guard. He didn't know what the assassin was after but his offer was quite tempting.

"What information?" he finally asked.

"You know about the vampires, don't you?" he began.

"Vampires?" J'Ziir frowned. "Haven't seen any."

"Sure you have," the assassin turned to look at him. "I know you even killed some of them. I need to know where they are coming from. I need to find their lair, their nest...whatever you call it."

"I don't care," J'Ziir said. "Now...if that's all..."

"My wife is one of them," the assassin revealed. "I need to find her...and end her."

"How sad," J'Ziir almost yawned. "Like I said, I don't care."

"Of course," the Dunmer nodded and his face was like an emotionless mask. "With the dragons and with the war, I'm sure you have a lot on your plate. How foolish of me to think you might help. I've heard that too. You are not very…forthcoming."

"And you assumed that I would be persuaded by your sad life story," J'Ziir cocked his head. "You should have listened to stories they tell about me."

"I can see that now," the Dunmer said. "But when you really need something, you take every chance you get. You seek information wherever you can find it, even if it's all torn apart and scattered." He turned around and walked to the little girl who was sleeping on the bench. He pulled the blanket higher and wrapped it tighter around her. At least he tried. There was surprising tenderness in him when he looked at her. He touched her cheek, smiled and turned to leave. The child reminded J'Ziir of Mila. And of Raji. And losing one's family was a thing he knew everything about. And weren't they both after revenge? And if it this was him, wouldn't he have turned to a possible source, no matter how unpredictable the results might have been.

"Isran," he finally said and the Dunmer stopped to his tracks. He took a few hesitant steps back and stared at him. "A redguard. Whatever is happening with the vampires, you better talk to him about it. And old fort, way past Riften. Dawnguard. That's all I know, Dunmer. The rest...well, I'm sure you are smart enough to dig up yourself."

He walked back to him. His eyes were still cold and black but his smile was crooked and ironical. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked and punched him in the shoulder.

J'Ziir frowned but said nothing. He knew more than he said but he was not an Innkeeper who would gossip like a brainless, old hag when asked about something. And this Dunmer assassin was a bit too slick to his liking. He was like a wet piece of soap, hard to get a hold on and slippery like an eel. As a matter of fact, there were countless of people who had asked his help considering the vampire threat. But if this assassin was after them as well, he wouldn't have to lift a finger. And that was good enough for him.

"As promised," the assassin gave him a small, black vial. "One of the strongest paralyzing poisons you can find. Just a small amount will keep a grown man in his place for hours. And the best part...it's quite painful. You can sit back and enjoy."

"Where did you get it?" J'Ziir asked.

"I know a bit of alchemy," he replied. "Made it myself. I found a lighthouse along the coast...a nice Redguard couple lived there. But the last time I visited, the place was inhabited by a different kind of...dwellers. That's where I got my main ingredient."

"And the passage?" J'Ziir stored the vial inside his armor.

"Very easy to find if you follow my instructions," the Dunmer smiled. Then he leaned closer, his voice was soft and low. Where to go, what to look for. J'Ziir had a map of Windhelm inside his head and with every word he made markings. When the Dunmer finished, he had a very clear image inside his head. And a very easy and streamlined path to his enemy.

"A pleasure, Dragonborn," the Dunmer shook his hand. "Maybe we will see each other again."

"I doubt it," J'Ziir replied. "Unless you're planning to kill me. But that would be a very, very bad idea."

"I assure you, I have no such plans," the Dunmer smiled and once again his grin was cold and dead. "I might try if you decide to turn into a vampire."

"Or your Dread Lord wants it," J'Ziir pointed out.

"I think he is after bigger prey now," the assassin replied. "No offense."

"None taken," J'Ziir pulled his hand away and left. After a few steps, he turned back. The Dunmer was gone. Only the little girl lay on the bench, covered by the warm deep pelt. And there were two nightshades on the basket.

He walked back the way he came. The city was very quiet now even the corner club at the Grey Quarter had closed its doors. He was walking up the steep stone steps when he noticed movement out of the corner of his eye. He melted into the shadows and not even the Dunmer assassin would have noticed him. His pupil's dilated and his vision sharpened. His ears twitched as he listened to the steps that were coming from some distance away.

Soon enough he saw who disturbed the peace of the silent night. Two Windhelm guards...and  _Lydia_. She was walking between them like a prisoner. Immediately alarms begun to ring in his head, his body became tense, his ears drew back against his skull and his eyes were dark as the night itself. He was able to see everything as clear as day. The small group headed towards the palace. He knew he wouldn't be able to follow them unnoticed but he hadn't left the Inn unprepared. He pulled out an invisibility potion and quickly drank it. And as he vanished into the night, he quietly hurried after them and was determined to know what was going on.

It was clear to him that Jarl Ulfric called Lydia out. And from the way he was looking at her during the dinner, he didn't have to guess the Jarl's reasons. But what interested him more was Lydia's reaction to this sudden invitation. What methods would the Jarl of Windhelm use while trying to turn her against him? And would Lydia grab the opportunity and leave his side for glory, for coin, and for power?


	69. Chapter 69

**69.**

When Lydia woke up, she realized she was alone. J'Ziir was gone and in her half woken state she worried something bad might have happened to him. But soon enough she reminded of herself what kind of a man her Thane was. If someone in Windhelm wanted to hurt him or kidnap him, they would need an entire Stormcloack army to do that. And even then they would have of difficulties. Lots of dead bodies and casualties. No, Lydia shook her head. J'Ziir walked out voluntarily and with his own two feet. And left her behind to sleep. Lydia didn't know did he do it out of consideration or because he believed she would only complicate his plans, whatever they were. Either way, she wasn't pleased.

She stood up and walked back to her own room. She tossed the dress aside and grabbed her armor. She was prepared to go outside, dig her Thane out and unleash a mouthful to him. How was she supposed to protect him when he left her at the Inn whenever he wanted? Well, Lydia admitted. J'Ziir didn't really need protecting. But she felt like an outsider when he suddenly just took off and disappeared. Weren't they supposed to be a team? She felt enraged when she realized she had stood by his side this whole night and he just upped and left whenever he wanted.

She barged out the door and knocked over a guard that was standing outside. The man was wearing a blue Windhelm armor and as he crashed down to the floor, the other guard that accompanied him hurried and helped him. Finally, when they were both back on their feet, they turned to her.

"The Dragonborn is not here," Lydia explained. "Now, if you excuse me, I need to go and find him."

"We are not here for him," the guard replied. "Are you lady Lydia, the Dragonborn's housecarl? Jarl Ulfric would like to see you."

"Now?" Lydia stared at them. "In the middle of the night? Why?"

"Jarl Ulfric didn't tell us," the guard answered. "He only asked us to get you."

"Is this an order?" Lydia forehead furrowed. She was already on the edge, she didn't need some strange midnight meeting with the Jarl himself.

"It's an order to us," the guard replied. "Whether you want to come or not is up to you."

"Alright, fine," Lydia sighed. "Where is he and why he wants to see me?"

"The Jarl is waiting for you at the Temple of Talos. We will take you there."

"Why? Its right around the corner," Lydia stated. "I can find the way myself."

"The Jarl insisted," the guard said. "And we follow orders."

Lydia slammed the door closed, grabbed her sword and left the Inn with the two guards. They walked the short distance to the Temple and Lydia didn't understand why she needed an escort for this. She was frustrated and didn't notice as her Thane joined their company. J'Ziir steps were muffled and he kept his eyes on Lydia. He could clearly see and sense her annoyance and wondered was it because of him or because of this unexpected invitation that led them to the Temple. But he was not surprised when they stepped inside.

Jarl Ulfric was standing in front of the shrine. The guard reported to him, he nodded and soon they were left alone in the Temple. The Jarl insisted utmost privacy, even the priests that served Talos were asked to leave. Lydia stood by the door but J'Ziir quietly sat down on one of the wooden benches. He wanted to hear every word and the invisibility potion was the strongest he had. It would last for hours. And just in case, he had two spare bottles with him. He could sit here for the rest of the night if need be.

"Jarl Ulfric," Lydia greeted but made no attempt to move closer.

"Ah, you are here," he turned to look at her. "I'd like to apologize for dragging you here in the middle of the night. I hope your Thane doesn't mind."

Lydia didn't answer and J'Ziir raised his eyebrow. If he hadn't returned from the Grey Quarter when he did, he wouldn't have a clue that Lydia was here. He would have assumed that she returned to her own room to sleep. His fingers begun to rub the handle of his ax. Slow, meticulous movements, considering. The ax would be out in his hand in less than a second. In two seconds, Ulfric's head would roll in the floor.

"What do you want with me?" Lydia finally asked.

"I watched you closely during our dinner," Jarl Ulfric walked towards her. "You genuinely seem to care for the Dragonborn. Maybe you want what's best for him. It seems were share a common goal."

"I thought all you wanted was to unite Skyrim under your rule," Lydia remarked and J'Ziir smiled to himself.

"Under the rule of the High King and his Queen," Jarl Ulfric corrected and stepped closer. "You see, uniting Skyrim in these difficult times requires strength beyond one man.  _The Dragonborn_  - he is regarded as the hero of Skyrim. Gaining his support would mean a lot to a potential ruler."

"What?" Lydia whispered and suddenly she understood the meaning of his secret meeting. "Are you asking me to persuade him to join your cause?"

"Your reward would be nothing less than the position of the Queen," the Jarl continued. "After all, you are a proud, strong Nord woman. And as capable as the Dragonborn is, he...does not belong here. Skyrim is..."

"His home, as much as it is yours," Lydia interrupted him and her voice was cold as ice. "He was born here and against his will, he was sent away. But now he's back and he is risking his life to save us all. And you dare to insinuate, that he doesn't belong here! After everything he's done!"

"I see," Jarl Ulfric nodded. "I understand your compassion towards him. Why wouldn't you care? You are his housecarl and it is your duty to make sure he's safe."

"My compassion?" Lydia couldn't believe what she was hearing. "What about you? Are you offering me a place as your Queen out of compassion? Or out of necessity? Offering me a place that does not even exist?"

"You should love your country more than any one person," Jarl Ulfric said. "But from what I've seen and heard...a woman like you would make a powerful and a just Queen."

"And Jarl Elisif?" Lydia asked. "Isn't her claim to the throne stronger than yours or mine?"

"Foolish, young child," Jarl Ulfric waived his hand. "What does she know? Nothing. Torygg married her when she was just a little girl. Do you expect me to hand over this land to a woman who knows next to nothing?"

"And what of me then?" Lydia asked. "How am I any different?"

When the Jarl didn't answer, Lydia's eyes flashed and she smiled. It was cunning, knowing smile and it made the man in front of her a little nervous. She nodded and walked forward, almost close enough to embrace the Jarl.

"Now I see," Lydia cooed in his ear. "Because I'm close to the Dragonborn. That's why you chose me. Even when I know nothing, like Jarl Elisif. You thought that bribing me with an idea of power, gold, fancy dresses and grand balls were a good idea, didn't you? Tell me, Jarl Ulfric, what would my duties be then, as you Queen? Oh, you don't need to answer," Lydia raised her hand when Jarl Ulfric was about the explain.

Like the Jarl, J'Ziir was also quite captivated by his housecarl. Her green eyes were burning with fire, she was furious. And when she was like this, she was beautiful and attractive, a woman any man would have yearned to hold. And suddenly something stabbed J'Ziir right in the chest and penetrated his beating heart like an angry, unrelenting wasp. He had to touch his chest to confirm was there really something there. Nothing...only that strange pain that was somehow caused by Lydia. How? He couldn't explain it. There were no words. If someone had asked him right there and then what he felt, he wouldn't be able to tell. He just didn't know how.

"Of course you'd expect me to give you an heir," Lydia continued and her voice was low and almost mocking.

"Those are thoughts for later," Jarl Ulfric remained calm. "But like you said, power is within your reach. A power like this will never be yours if you remain by his side."

"You say I would be a just Queen," Lydia looked at him straight in the eyes. "How do you know that?"

"You are a woman who loves this land and thinks of its people," Ulfric answered. "And would never betray their trust."

"Really?" Lydia asked and now her voice begun to falter. "And how would a woman, who betrayed the only man she ever loved, be a just Queen? How would she be trustworthy?"

Jarl Ulfric flinched and stepped back. J'Ziir's ears twitched and he was barely able to keep himself still and not jump out of the bench and cause a huge ruckus. The only man she ever loved...loved... _loved_? It was like an electric current ran through his body, his tail became fuzzy and thick. It swung back and forth and he had to calm himself down. He didn't even notice how his ears pointed straight up so that he wouldn't miss a single word, a single sigh, any noise or breath that Lydia made.

"The only man...?" Jarl Ulfric repeated. "Surely you don't mean..."

"Yes, the Dragonborn," Lydia nodded. "My Thane. To me, he is so much more than that. He is the man who does not have an equal in this world. I would not betray him even if you locked me up and tortured me till I died.  _I love him_. And I will give him all the love that I have in my soul because he needs it, he deserves it more than anyone else. I might be his housecarl, but he released me of that duty long ago. I voluntarily followed him and I have not regretted that decision."

"He is a Khajiit!" Jarl Ulfric almost shouted.

"And?" Lydia asked and swallowed her tears.

She did not want to cry in front of this man. He wouldn't understand her tears or the reasons behind them. He wouldn't understand the pain she felt when she thought about her Thane. How much had he suffered? And how much she wished to help him, to heal him. And take away that pain and agony that was living in his heart. How much she wished his life would be happier, and how much he wanted to make him laugh and smile together with him. She had seen J'Ziir smile on rare occasions and his smile was like a unique gem that brightened even the darkest moments. His smile, his presence opened a door inside her heart that she didn't even know existed. But she knew, as clear as a day that she did not want to close that door ever again.

"And you are a Nord! And you should know your value."

"My value?" Lydia repeated. "Are you really saying that he doesn't deserve my love?"

"He is not worthy of you," Jarl Ulfric claimed. "A Khajiit. A  _cat_! Dragonborn or whatever. He is never going to remain loyal to this land. Wouldn't he be happier amongst his own people? In his own country? With someone of his own...race?"

"Like I said," Lydia insisted. "Skyrim is his home. Yes, I'm a Nord. And yes, he's a Khajiit. But that changes nothing. And now," Lydia took a deep breath. "I believe this conversation is over. There is nothing you could say that would change my mind."

She turned, Jarl Ulfric raised his hand but like a whirlwind, she left the Temple. J'Ziir remained at his seat and contemplated what he had just heard. He intentionally tried to block out Lydia's words of love, he didn't want to think about them. But his stubborn heart felt lighter and happier. Of course, he reasoned. Lydia had not wavered in front of the Jarl of Windhelm. In some way, he was proud of her. And he was pleased to see the look on Ulfric's face when he heard her words.  _The only man I ever loved_...J'Ziir swallowed. He would think about all this later, what it meant and how it would change his attitude towards his housecarl. But not now.  _Not now_.

Jarl Ulfric walked back to the shrine of Talos. He closed his eyes and prayed. J'Ziir stood up. He wasn't ready to leave. This man had something up his sleeve and he needed to know everything before he could make his own move. He watched as the Jarl straightened his back and cleared his throat. A lone man, dressed in black walked into view. This whole time he had remained behind the altar and observed the situation.

"Kill her," Jarl Ulfric whispered to him. "Before the dawn. And make sure he knows."

"Per you order," the mysterious man replied. "Anything else, my Jarl?"

"His family?" the Jarl asked.

"A younger sister," the man reported. "Got married in Riften only three weeks ago."

"Find her," Jarl Ulfric continued. "If his housecarl isn't enough - use the sister."


	70. Chapter 70

**70.**

He caught up with her just before she entered the Inn. He grabbed her arm and pulled her aside. She was about to scream but he slapped his palm in front of her mouth and dragged her into the shadows of the city. At first, Lydia didn't recognize him and struggled the best she could. He slammed her back first against a hard stone wall, she moaned and his angry eyes met hers.

"Leave the city," he whispered to her. "Now."

"J'Ziir?" Lydia pushed his hand away. "What..."

"Be quiet and listen!" he hissed at her. "Is there anything important at the Inn? Coin, weapons, armor?"

"No, only my clothes and some books, but..."

"Good, leave them and go," J'Ziir told her. "Right now."

"I don't understand," Lydia frowned. "What's wrong?"

"I'll explain everything later," J'Ziir said. "Just head to the stables and wait for me there. And be ready to leave."

"What? I can't leave you behind!" Lydia cried and J'Ziir slapped his hand on her mouth again.

"Shut up!" he whispered. "Just listen and don't interrupt. If you don't leave right now, your life is in danger. The Jarl sent an assassin after you."

"What? Why?" Lydia's eyes widened and she swallowed.

"It's me he's after," J'Ziir said. "You are expendable, like everyone else around me."

"It's you...but that means..." Lydia squeezed his arm. "Then I can't go. I need to stay and help you."

"The only way you can help right now is to leave," J'Ziir grabbed her hand and quietly led her to the main gate.

He glanced around and saw no sign of the assassin that was sent after Lydia. He didn't allow his mind to even think about Raji. That would have to wait. And he forced himself to calm down. Raji had a protector. Her very own wolf that would do anything to keep her safe. If Lydia wasn't here with him, things wouldn't be this complicated. He should be able to ignore her. If Lydia wasn't here...

"Go," he pushed her towards the gate. "Saddle the horses and wait for me. I'll come as soon as I can."

"J'Ziir," Lydia was torn apart. She wanted to remain by his side, her heart was overflowing with the feelings she had for him. " _I...lo..."_

"Just go," J'Ziir interrupted her. "And be ready."

Then he disappeared back into the shadows. For a while, Lydia just stood there. Then she took a few steps after him.  _No!_ she ordered herself. Don't go after him. It will only cause problems. Just do what he says and everything will be fine. But even when she turned back towards the gate, she couldn't hold in a helpless whimper of fear. She glanced back one last time and prayed for the Divines to keep her loved one alive.

J'Ziir didn't waste time. Without a sound, he ran towards the Palace and his eyes searched for the telltale signs of the secret passage. The map of the city was clear in his mind and he headed straight towards the courtyard. From there he turned right and as soon as his eyes saw the small grate between the two benches, he knew he was in the right place. He glanced around, saw no one and took out his ebony dagger. He pulled the grate open. The hole between the benches was small but he managed to squeeze himself inside with little effort. He fell into a narrow tunnel that led straight to the palace. The corridor was dark, damp and smelled like a sewer but his eyes saw every crack, every corner and every drop of water that fell down from the high stone ceiling. He turned and pulled the grate back but left the hinges open. He might need a quick way out of here.

The tunnel was ancient. It was built long before the current ruler of the city and as time passed it was forgotten. Until a very curious, very self-assured Dunmer came along and found it. He stole everything he wanted from Jarl Ulfric's chambers and used the secret passage for one of his contracts. He was never caught but one of the kitchen maids in the Palace was found dead in the morning. And a small nightshade was placed on her chest.

He felt the heat of the fire pit when he passed the kitchen. The tunnel was built inside the walls and was probably once used as an escape route for the Jarl of Windhelm. He continued on and at the end of the tunnel, he found very old, very decrepit ladder leading up the wall. He didn't hesitate but when he began to climb, he felt how the old, worn out robes and rotten woods creaked and cracked under his weight. Despite all that he was able to get to the top. The tunnel narrowed and the ceiling was much lower now. He crouched and crawled the rest of the way. Through the wall, he heard low voices and he recognized Jarl Ulfric as one of the speakers. He couldn't make out the words but it was enough for him to know that he was there. His movements were muffled and slow and the narrow tunnel leads him right to the big wardrobe. The back panel was false and carefully he opened it. Through the wardrobe doors, he could clearly hear Ulfric's voice. The other man was his right-hand man, Galmar Stone-Fist, big, brutish Nord who stayed by the Jarl wherever he went. A man whose gaze was like stone, cold and unmovable. It didn't reveal anything but J'Ziir clearly felt his contempt. To a man like him, the title of the Dragonborn was almost as holy like the mighty Talos he worshipped. And now, meeting a Dragonborn who was not a Nord made him doubt all the other Divines.

Their conversation didn't interest J'Ziir although he did hear his own name mentioned a couple of times. He also noticed the tone that coated Jarl Ulfric's voice when he mentioned it. Cold and disrespectful. Filled with malcontent and mockery. And once again as his rage begun to rise he noticed that his patience sat beside him and told him to wait. Its smile was cold and icy.  _Wait, until he's alone,_ it whispered to him

In the meantime, he took out the small, black vial the Dunmer assassin gave him. He dipped one of his ebony arrows into the liquid and a strong, putrid smell filled the small space. He closed the vial, prepared his bow and was ready to shoot as soon as he got the opportunity. His original plan was to kill the Jarl right away. But now - the man touched something that belonged to him. And he once again dared to threaten his family. This family that he barely discovered. Raji, Brynjolf, Vilkas and... _Lydia_. But this time he was not a helpless little boy. This time he would let the Jarl know what and who he was facing. He would give Ulfric a warning and make sure that he would come for him, eventually. Tonight he would plant a seed of fear and anxiety into the Jarl's heart and make sure it would grow and flourish.

The other man bid his farewells, walked to the door and closed it behind him. For a while, J'Ziir just sat and waited. He wanted to be absolutely sure that there was no one else in the room and that they wouldn't be disturbed. He heard Jarl Ulfric's steps, how the man walked around the room and stopped every now and then, probably to contemplate his war, his land and his mighty plans for the future. J'Ziir didn't make a sound when he readied his bow and pushed the door slightly ajar. His eyes, which were now huge and dilated, searched for the Jarl's figure in the dim room. He was more than pleased to notice that the Jarl wasn't facing him. And shooting a man in the back didn't cause him any guilt.

Jarl Ulfric didn't have time to react or even to guess what was happening when a sharp pain pierced his right shoulder. Immediately he went for his sword but as he noticed he was unable to move, his brain begun to register things around him. The first thing was the pain and not just from the arrow. Like something was spreading through him like his blood had suddenly turned into burning acid that scorched his whole body. He was paralyzed, only his lungs and his heart seemed to be working, the other pumping the poisoned blood all around him and the other trying to get as much air in as possible to keep him alive.

He heard footsteps behind him but couldn't see his attacker.  _An assassination attempt!_  was his first thought. No, an assassin would have killed him right away. This was something else. Something much more sinister. A warning...

"Feels good, doesn't it? To be poisoned. Allow me to return the favor," someone said with a low, menacing voice and Jarl Ulfric didn't have to think long. He knew that voice. His blood that was on fire suddenly turned as cold as ice. He couldn't speak but he doubted there were words strong enough to calm down the angry Khajiit.

"You did most of the talking during our dinner," J'Ziir continued and circled the man so that he was finally able to see him. "Now it's my turn."

Here he was, in front of the man who he so desperately wanted to kill. Whose death he'd been planning for years. His hands itched and his brain yelled at him, commanding him to end this. For years it had been the voice of his angry, raging, tortured childhood but now it drowned out by his calm, soothing, dangerously deceptive patience. And now when he had his chance to say what he wanted, he wasn't sure how to begin.  _Start with the truth_ , said his patience. He pulled out his mother's dagger and raised it for the Jarl to see.

"This belonged to my mother," J'Ziir said and placed the sharp metal against Ulfric's neck. "The same woman you and your men murdered years ago. And that mage you said you knew... my father."

Jarl Ulfric swallowed. He was a Nord who believed that when he died, his soul would travel to Sovngarde. He wasn't afraid of dying, he was afraid to leave things the way they were. His land in shatters, civil war rampaging, and families turning against each other. His only hope was to unite Skyrim against the Empire and the Elves. And if this Khajiit would kill him tonight, he was sure Skyrim would fall to pieces.

"That little boy that was left behind, that your soldiers sold to slavers," J'Ziir continued. "Me."

It took a while for the Jarl to collect all the pieces and gather a real image of what he had just heard. He remembered that day when he met Jo'Azirr for the last time when he wanted to give him one more chance to aid his cause, to help him with the ancient spells he discovered during his studies. He had travtraveledWinterhold to see him but the stubborn Khajiit said those spells were way too dangerous to use. After that, he disappeared for years. And when Maven Black-Briar from Riften sent him a word, he was able to meet that accursed cat once more. But Jo'Azirr's only answer was that he had given up his powers. The spell was gone. Hidden for good. And even if he changed his mind, he wouldn't be able to help anymore. At that point, Jarl Ulfric turned his back and only heard what happened. But for years he remembered the angry eyes of the little boy that was left behind. And even in his dreams, those eyes haunted him.

" _But...you have a sister?_ " he wanted to ask. At the same time, he couldn't believe that he didn't remember her. Had he seen her? No, only the eyes of the boy had remained from that day. And the deep regret that he spared the child. And now...this was the price he paid for that weakness.

"Ah, yes, my sister," J'Ziir nodded like he guessed his thoughts. "She's alive. You sent your assassins after her. Go ahead. Get your men killed. You knew our father was a mage. Guess who inherited all that power?"

Jarl Ulfic blinked. He knew he swam in deep waters now. If the Dragonborn knew of his plans, there was no chance of winning him over or stop him from doing what he wanted. And still that day lingered in his thoughts. Jo'Azirr and his family, his wife and his... _little boy_. Who was no longer so tiny and innocent. But whose eyes still burned like the brightest of flames. Burned with hatred and with the thirst for revenge. He remembered those eyes, and how he had prayed he would never have to see them again.

"Let's discuss more, shall we?" J'Ziir grabbed his arm and tossed him at the bed where he remained in the position he landed. His whole body screamed and ached, the arrow sank deeper into his shoulder and every touch was like someone stabbed him with a hot iron. But he couldn't call for help, his only hope now was that Galmar would return like he said he would. After a couple of hours. But he prayed that his right-hand man would come sooner, much, much sooner.

"After I was sold, all I could think about was you," J'Ziir sneered. Those words sounded like they were taken from a cheesy romance novel but his evil grin turned their meaning upside down. "Every waking hour I dreamed of the day I would finally see you again. And here we are. You and me. And this time things are different. You're no longer in charge. You're alone. And I could just end you, very easily and quickly. It would resolve so many things. The war...this little rebellion of yours. How happy the Imperials would be. And I could just walk out and no one would know what happened and who did this. After all, this place seems to be filled with tunnels that even you are not aware of."

Ulfric thought about his words.  _Secret tunnels_ , of course. How else would this creature find his way in here. Without anyone knowing. He could only move his eyes and tried to locate the place J'Ziir had appeared but when the Khajiit saw his searching gaze, he smiled - that cold, cold shivering grin that caused chills all over his skin.

"I could show you were the entrance is, but that would be no fun," J'Ziir laughed.

Jarl Ulfric was a strong man, a warrior, and a soldier. Fear was not something he was used to feeling. Planting the seed would take some effort, this man was like the harsh land of Skyrim, filled with snow and frost. But he knew what it meant to lie down and not being able to move. To feel helpless, not being able to protect yourself. If Jarl Ulfric had someone special in his life, he could just seek them out and threaten their lives. But he doubted that the Jarl had anyone except his right-hand man, who was merely his companion in war and nothing more. He was very aware that at any moment, Galmar could return, he had heard enough of their conversation to know that Ulfric was waiting for him to come back.

"Since you invited me to dinner and not into your private chambers, I won't take more of your time," J'Ziir leaned closer. "I came to make things clear for you. From now on, you are living on borrowed time. You tried to get me on your side using all the wrong tactics. If you ever touch something that is  _mine_  - I'll rip you to pieces. Or maybe I will challenge you and use the same dirty tricks that you used against the late King. It would be interesting to see what happens to a man when you shout him to death. And if you ever even think of Lydia...well, I guess I won't have to repeat myself."

J'Ziir cocked his head a little when he heard quiet footsteps from the stone stairs. He smiled and straightened his back. "It will take hours for you to recover from the poison. I'll leave you to it then. And during the time when you can't speak, move or even scream, I hope you will think of what I said. And prepare for your own downfall. Before the Imperials can cut you down -  _I will_. Not because of Skyrim and its people. But because of my family. The one you stole. And the one I got back. This time I'm not about to lose them."

J'Zir gripped the arrow and yanked it out of his shoulder. Jarl Ulfric tried to scream but his mouth produced only quiet wheezing. Big drops of sweat poured from his forehead and his muscles cramped and were desperately trying to move. He was laying on his right side and when the Khajiit disappeared from his view, he still had no idea where he went and how he vanished. And when Galmar knocked on his door a few minutes later and finally let himself in, all he could think about was the Dragonborn and what his existence meant for Skyrim. For Ulfric's Skyrim. When Galmar yelled for the guards to come and search the whole Palace, the whole city and all of Skyrim if need be, one thought kept repeating itself in Jarl Uflric's head.

Jo'Azirr's son. The spell. His  _daughter_  - a powerful mage. The Spell - hidden away. His son - the Dragonborn. Don't kill him. Don't kill him.  _Don't kill them!_


	71. Chapter 71

**71.**

Leaving the city was surprisingly easy. The guards didn't try to stop him and even though he heard screams and frantic orders around him, he was able to walk calmly to the front gates and leave. He knew that Ulfric wouldn't be able to reveal his attacker's name in hours. The guards were searching for someone, but they had no idea who. And of course, the mighty Dragonborn, the savior of Skyrim was the last suspect on their lists. Even if they saw him as a potential criminal who attacked the Jarl in his own bedchamber, they didn't dare to make threats or demands towards him without any solid proof. But of course, they wanted to. He was a Khajiit after all. Dragonborn or not.

As he walked out of Windhelm, he felt the brisk wind on his face and saw the first rays of the sun. It was dawn. And at that moment Jarl Ulfric's orders popped into his mind. " _Kill her before the dawn"._  He sent Lydia out of the city and she was probably waiting at the stables like he ordered her to but he was suddenly feeling very nervous. He couldn't reason why but his pace quickened and he hurried along. He couldn't see her and the stables were still some distance away but it was unexpected to hear her bright, almost happy, relieved voice. It broke the silence of the otherwise quiet morning.

"J'Ziir! There you are! I was so worried..."

Then her words were cut off. And silence fell around him. For a short moment, he just stood there and then his legs begun to move on their own. There were no thoughts, just feelings that spurred him into movement. Pain somewhere inside him, in a place he never knew existed. But it reminded him of that day when he saw his parents die right in front of his eyes. That day he had felt the same kind of fear that surrounded his heart right now.

As he rushed down the snow-covered stone stairs, his eyes searched for her familiar form. The silver shaded steel armor, her shapely figure that was much shorter than him but strong and enduring like the woman born from this land. Her brown, tangled hair, her green eyes that were always looking at him filled with emotions, sadness, anger, pity, gentle sorrow and sometimes…more often now than ever before…with  _love_.

He located that figure that he so desperately wanted to see alive and scorning him for being late, for making her wait or ordering her out here in the cold for no particular reason. But she wasn't standing. She was lying there, on the ground, unmoving and silent. And next to her stood a man, shrouded in black. When he saw the tail, he was momentarily caught off guard. Jarl Ulfric's assassin was a Khajiit! How cunning and how hypocritical!

Then he exploded into action. In a blink of an eye, his axes were in his hands and he was next to the assassin, who was quick and agile like him but lacked the experience and the years of training he was forced to go through. J'Ziir knew his every move even before he made it and with one clean swipe, he cut off his other leg just below his knee. The snow in front of the Windhelm stables was stained red and the assassin fell, screaming in pain and agony. And it that moment the same cold cruelty that always followed his elven slavers, the wizards who used their spells without a single concern for their victims, took over him. J'Ziir knelt down, smiled and with gruesome concentration cut up his victim, piece by piece until his hands were covered in his blood and the all that remained was a big pile of body parts scattered in the bloodstained snow. His victim screamed, of course, tried to crawl away but nothing could save the ill-fated assassin. And afterward, when J'Ziir had time to think about what happened, he recognized the insane, joyous laughter of his own patience coming out from his mouth. The same voice who always told him to wait for the right moment. And now, when it couldn't get Jarl Ulfric, it was satisfied with the next best thing.

Almost violently he was pulled back into this moment and when he saw the mess in his hands, the warm blood dripping from his fingers and absorbing into his fur, he wasn't sure what was happening to him. What drove him to be this cruel? And as the question came to him, he spun around and spotted Lydia, still lying on the ground, silent and unmoving. This time it wasn't his patience that moved his legs, it was someone new whose cries were painful and desperate to hear. Who kept repeating her name over and over again. He rushed to her and carefully picked her up. He wasn't sure was it her blood that stained his hands, it made no difference. He leaned closer and heard her breathe, coming in and out, short and wheezing. He felt her pulse beating on her neck and at that point, his cruel, cruel patience grew silent and that other voice said calmly " _she's alive, now shut up!_ "

J'Ziir picked her into his arms and located his mare which was standing some distance away, saddled and ready to go as he had ordered. He didn't see Lydia's horse anywhere but she wouldn't have much use for it in her current condition. He glanced back at the city and knew that he couldn't return, no matter how desperately Lydia needed help. His inner map opened before his eyes and in an instant, he remembered the small cave, one of his hideouts. He cleared it out of bandits, left some weapons and some necessities there. And it was rather close to Windhelm. It became his obvious choice. He whistled to his mare and it came to him willingly. He lifted Lydia on its back and hopped on behind her so that she was placed rather comfortably against his strong upper body. He heard some shouting from the main gates and didn't waste any more time. He urged his mare to move and soon enough the snow storm that was brewing over Windhelm covered their tracks.

It didn't take him long to find what he was looking for. He recognized the two small bushes that hid the entrance to the cave. He jumped down from his horse and pulled Lydia along. At the moment he didn't care about his mare, it was used to taking care of itself and as he entered the cave, the sturdy little animal stubbornly followed him inside. The cave was cold and empty. A small, narrow tunnel leads into a larger area where he had weapons and food, firewood and other necessities. He had many different hideouts all across the land and they had proven useful more than once. Some located near the cities, some out in the wilderness. This one was one of the smallest and he immediately knew he wouldn't find any potions here. Not here and not from his knapsack. He filled the shelves of this hideout with poisons. Easy access, close to Windhelm. Take what you need and go. This hideout wasn't meant for staying and so he had no need to gather much here.

He laid Lydia down on the cold ground, grabbed some wood and lit a small fire. He still didn't know how the assassin managed to injure her or how bad her wound was. He glanced at his hands and saw only the blood stains that remained from the cruel butchering of the assassin. For a moment he thought that Lydia had only fainted, but she was pale and a cold sweat covered her forehead. He rummaged through the shelves and found no potions, exactly like he remembered. He knew he had some linen wraps in one of the chests and he grabbed them, hoping he could use them as bandages. He knelt down next to Lydia and suddenly his hands refused to move. All his fingers turned into thumbs. Touching her and removing her clothes was bad enough. Touching her like this, his hands filled with the dried up blood of Jarl Ulfric's assassin was way, way worse. He dropped the cloth beside her, walked out and plunged his arms into the cold, white snow. He rubbed his hands with it until his fingers were numb and he could barely move them. The blood still remained. It was like etched to his skin and to his fur, like a mark he was carrying around now. A mark of the cruelty he could never escape. This is what he was. A beast meant only for killing.

He returned to the cave and the sight of the pale, unconscious woman slowly woke up the other voice inside him. It urged him to hurry. If he wanted to save her, time was of the essence. No more soul searching. He would have time to for that later. Reluctantly he listened to that voice. It was filled with authority, it sounded very much like his father. But it was warm and calming, reassuring him that everything would be alright. He knelt down, took a deep breath and begun to remove Lydia's steel armor.

When her breastplate came off, blood gushed out to the ground. The icy, stone floor wasn't able to suck it in. In an instant, his doubts vanished and he truly began to worry for her. He hadn't noticed the huge cut on her back; the assassin's knife pierced her armor and slashed a nasty, gaping wound near her spine. He didn't hesitate as he quickly removed the rest of the armor, the blood-soaked shirt underneath it and her breast band. He didn't even notice her nakedness when he left her lying there, rushed outside and grabbed a handful of snow. He hoped the coldness would – if not stop the bleeding – at least reduce it. While he was at it, he tossed some more wood to the fire, poured some water into an old pot and begun to warm it.

He didn't know how long it took to stop the bleeding. The pile of bloody rags next to Lydia was growing as the hours crawled by. Finally, he was able to wrap the cloth around her upper body and not have it soaked wet only a few minutes later. She was like a ghost, her lips were chapped, her cheeks were cold and her limbs were like ice. J'Ziir tucked her underneath all the blankets he had in the cave. He kept the fire going and when she was sleeping soundly, he stood up and moaned. His whole body was stiff and slow. He was hungry and his armor felt like it weighed tons. He glanced at his mare that was standing next to the wall, close to the fire, still wearing its bridle and saddle. He walked to it and gently patted its back.

After the horse was comfortable, its gear removed, its body covered with the last blanket he was able to find and with a small pile of hay in front of it, he finally opened the claps of his own armor and sighed when the heavy breastplate fell to the ground. He was not cold, his fur kept him warm but he was hungry. He found some food, some salted meat and a piece of old bread that didn't smell too bad. He slowly ate them and washed them down with a bottle of mead. At that moment the dry piece of bread and the stone hard meat tasted better than any local delicacy that Skyrim had to offer.

He was standing there, wearing only his breeches and he watched Lydia. And tried, tried so very hard to silence that new voice that somehow gained a foothold inside him. A voice that cared, that actually wanted to see Lydia recover as fast as possible. To see her smile again. To laugh again. To see that scorning look on her face when he did something she didn't approve. To see the fire burn in those green orbs when she was angry. To see them sparkle when she was happy.

_Happy_. What a new, strange, dangerous word it was. And what a new, strange, dangerous feeling this was. This wanting. To see her happy.

J'Ziir turned away from her and remembered what he said to Ulfric. His family. He would protect  _his_  family. Raji, Vilkas, Brynjolf…and Lydia. His tired eyes once again found her, tucked under the covers, looking so small, so weak and helpless. And the tiny, little hole in his heart grew bigger and bigger with every passing second.

He was tired, so very tired to fight against this. An endless battle. Leaving her hadn't helped. The Queen followed her even to High Hrothgar. Letting her stay would only cause him to sink deeper. And what would happen if she won?

If she won how much would I have to give up? he answered. And if she were to die…how would I be able to go on without her?


	72. Chapter 72

**72.**

The first thing Lydia knew when she woke up was thirst. She heard the sound of water somewhere close to her, how it dripped down and pooled into a small puddle to the stony ground. She tried to turn towards it but her head wouldn't move. She swallowed and her throat was as dry as a dessert.

Someone moved around her. She heard huffed footsteps. Then, a horse neighed and its hoofs clapped the ground. She smelled the scent of hay and the wet fur of the animal. She tried to understand where she was and what happened. She remembered waiting for J'Ziir, outside of Windhelm, near the stables as they agreed. And then he appeared from the snow…at least it was someone who resembled him. And then she only saw the sharp, silvery blade which she wasn't able to dodge and felt the pain, the blood, and the fear. She was feeling so very tired, the exhaustion almost overtook the need to drink. She tried to move but immediately she felt the stinging, burning twinge somewhere in her lower back. She cried out and that someone, who was moving around her, knelt beside her.

"Lydia?" J'Ziir's calm voice asked. "How are you feeling?"

"Water," she mumbled.

He moved away and after a few minutes, she felt how a small cup filled with fresh water was placed against her lips. She drank the whole cup, it was like this was the first time she ever tasted water. Each gulp made her feel better and stronger. It was cool and refreshing and tasted so very good. When the cup was empty, she sighed and was finally able to pry her eyes open. The grey stone ceiling was the first thing she saw. Filled with moss, dripping with moist, partly covered with mushroom-like growth and icicles hanging from here and there. Then she moved her eyes to the right and saw the small fire and smelled the food, smoked salmon and something else, a rabbit maybe, even something as delicious as chicken. J'Ziir noticed her gaze and shook his head.

"Don't get up," he said. "You have a massive wound in your back and I have no potions."

"I have," Lydia wheezed. "Why didn't you use them?"

"Where?" he asked.

"In my knapsack," she patiently explained. "I always have two or three bottles, just in case. When the slaughter fish bit me in Riften and you called me a silly woman. I learned my lesson."

J'Ziir located her pack, lying in the corner where he tossed it after he carried Lydia in. After that, he didn't pay any attention to it. He didn't notice it even when he left the hideout for a couple of hours. Hoping to find a farmhouse or some food. He did find food, a skinny rabbit, a dead goat which was half eaten by wolves and which he didn't want to drag along. Some fish, which he bought from a hunter he met on the way back. But no potions. He also wanted to make sure no one was following them. It'd been hours. Jarl Ulfric was probably recovering…and maybe sending an army after them. But so far he saw no signs of pursuers.

He was silently calling himself a fool when two large, red bottles fell into his lap from Lydia's knapsack. Why not go for the obvious choice? he asked himself and handed the bottles to her. A housecarl's duty number one: always have some potions at hand in case of an emergency. Keep your Thane alive. After the first two gulps, Lydia's face was starting to gain color and only an hour later she was back to her old self, blabbering and talking, asking questions and watching him with those curious, half serious eyes of hers.

J'Ziir decided it was best to feed her first. At least that way he would have time to gather his thoughts and decide what to say and what not to say. He served her the last remains of the food and she devoured them like a hungry beast, eating with her fingers, tearing the flesh from the bone and stuffing it inside her mouth before she was even able to chew or to swallow. Discreetly J'Ziir brought her a cup of water and she grabbed before he had a chance to place it next to her. In a few seconds, the cup was empty and lying on the ground.

"What happened?" Lydia finally wiped her mouth. Her eyes searched his face.

"An assassin," J'Ziir replied and sat down by the fire. "Like I said, Jarl Ulfric wanted you dead."

"Why?" she gasped. "What did I ever do?"

"Enough," J'Ziir scoffed. "You turned him down, didn't you?"

"But that's no reason for…" Lydia paused and stared at him. "Wait. How do you know about it?"

First question. First pause. First chance to think of what to say. And what not to say. He considered his options, calculated. If he told her that he was at the Temple, he would have to admit he knew of her feelings. And if he knew about them, he would have to answer them. Accept them or deny them. And he didn't know which was worse. So he kept avoiding it the best he could.

"Well?" Lydia pestered him.

"I know because I visited the Jarl last night," J'Ziir finally answered.

"You met him?" Lydia was baffled. "When?"

"Last night," J'Ziir repeated.

"But…I met him as well," Lydia insisted." Don't you remember when you grabbed me and told me to leave the city?"

"I know you met him," J'Ziir tossed another wood to the fire. "That's why I told you to leave."

"How did you know?" Lydia asked. "That he sent someone after me?"

Second question. Second pause. Second chance. To hear it as a rumor or to admit being there. Knowing things he didn't want to know. But who would tell rumors about assassins in the middle of the night? Especially about an assassin that the Jarl himself used. It was not a logical explanation. No one would believe it, especially Lydia. She had somehow developed an ability to see through him, see through his excuses and blatant lies.

"I…heard it," he replied and avoided her eyes.

"From who?" Lydia frowned and he could clearly see how her brains were working. She was sure he was not telling the truth and was determined to squeeze it out of him. And he was as determined to keep it hidden.

"I have eyes everywhere," J'Ziir said. "You should know that by now."

"Oh, so your mysterious source was in the Temple while I met the Jarl?" Lydia poked deeper. "How interesting. Did this invisible person tell you everything that happened there?"

Third question. Third pause. His chances were running out. To hear the word " _invisible_ " from her lips almost made him jump. It was like she knew he had been there and deliberately steered the conversation towards the danger zone. He was still considering his answer when her eyes flashed and she smiled.

"You were there, weren't you?" Lydia said. "In the Temple of Talos. You saw me as the guards led me to him and couldn't stay away, could you?"

Fourth question. No, an accusation. One last pause. And he stepped right into the nest of the Queen. And now he was wiggling in its web, feeling the sticky strands squeezing tight around him and suffocating him. He stood up, quickly and knocked down Lydia's empty cup. He was confused and alarmed like he was caught red-handed, doing something illegal and forbidden. He walked away from her, as far as he could and stopped at the entrance, hearing the wind whistling outside of the cave, rustling in the bushes and flying the snow around. He was feeling like one of those light, white flakes, being whisked in the wind and not being able to stop, not being able to determine the direction he was going to.

"You said you met him," Lydia was suddenly by his side and he was terrified of her. Being able to come so close and so quietly. So that he didn't know, hear or see her. "That's why we needed to leave Windhelm? What did you do?"

At this point, there was no need to hide anything. "I told him who I was. And I told him to stay away from my…family."

"Family?" Lydia blinked her eyes. "Am I…part of that family?"

"You," J'Ziir looked at her. "You are part of something."

"Something that doesn't exist?" Lydia sighed.

"If it didn't exist, you wouldn't be part of it, now would you?" J'Ziir mumbled.

She was quiet for a moment. Then she looked at him once more. "You said you told him who you were. What do you mean by that? He already knows you are the Dragonborn, right?"

"He knew that much," J'Ziir nodded. "But now he knows something else as well. That I am the son of that mage he knew all those years ago. The mage he murdered."

"Murdered…but…that means?" Lydia tried to piece it all together. "He was responsible for murdering your family?"

"He came with his men and butchered everyone," J'Ziir said and his eyes were looking at something that was so far, far away in the past but still caused so much misery and pain. "I witnessed it all. Before he came, Raji and I were playing hide-and-seek. She was hiding in the carriage, I heard her giggle when I searched for her. When they came, I glanced at her and urged her to stay there. I guess the men were having fun, practicing and shooting arrows at the poor old animal. It fled and ran straight over the edge of the cliff. The wagon trailing behind, Raji still hiding inside it."

Lydia was baffled to hear all this. She didn't like Jarl Ulfric but knowing what he did with his men made her dislike him even more. And then…what happened to J'Ziir? Seeing his family murdered right in front of his eyes, living through it all, it caused her heart to ache and cry for him.

"You heard what I told him, didn't you?" Lydia finally asked and didn't dare to look into his eyes. "When he offered me the place as his Queen. And I replied…"

"I know what you said," J'Ziir interrupted him. "Don't repeat it. It's not worth it."

"What do you mean?" Lydia lifted her gaze.

"Your feelings," J'Ziir uttered. "Are not real. What do you even know about me? To claim that you…"

"Yes, say it!" Lydia faced him. "You can't, can you? The word " _love_ " isn't part of your vocabulary. And I know enough to see that this hissy fit you are having is yet another way of trying to make me angry and stop talking about this."

"Hissy fit?" J'Ziir stared at her.

"And you're right. I know very little about you," Lydia grabbed his arm. "Because you never tell me anything. How am I supposed to know when you keep it all hidden?"

J'Ziir sighed. It was clear that he was losing this battle. And when you are standing on the edge, it's important to play time. He walked back to fire, sat down and when Lydia followed him, he looked at her. And then he opened the doors that had been locked for a long, long time. As the words begun to pour out there was no stopping them. He shared everything he remembered, the sunny, and beautiful, warm days of his childhood when he spent his time with Raji and Brynjolf. He allowed himself to travel back to that time when he lost everything and he was sold, used, tortured, tested and trained. When he lost his will to live and he begged to die. When he was lifted back to his feet and forced to move on. And when he finally found the one reason that kept him alive.

His story lasted for hours but Lydia didn't count the seconds. She was absorbed by his words, she could clearly see every moment, and she lived those horrifying days by his side, cried when he cried and felt the same anger and hate that he felt. And with every passing moment, she realized how much this man needed to be loved. And her heart was overflowing. She desperately wanted to give it all to him, if only he would allow it. She wanted to be there by his side and make sure that he would never again feel lonely or abandoned or overpowered by this world and its demands.

When he finally grew silent, after spending so many hours drifting through those dark days, he felt empty and hollow. Like the icy wind of Skyrim forced its way inside him and dusted all those closed rooms and took with it the webs, the dark, dark shadows and all the confiding, rusty iron shackles that were still binding his hands and ankles. He was tired but he felt surprisingly free.

"Now you know," he finally said.

"Now I know," Lydia smiled. "And I still love you."

"You shouldn't," J'Ziir said but the fire had died out. He didn't have the power to resist her anymore. "There is no love left in me. I have nothing to give."

"I don't believe that," Lydia shook her head. "When you look at Sura and you look at Mila, I see the gentleness in your eyes. There is lots of love, you just don't want to let it be seen."

"Don't love me, Lydia," J'Ziir persisted. "It will only cause you pain."

"And if I was in pain, how you would feel?" she asked.

"Don't ask me that," J'Ziir frowned. "When you know I can't answer."

"I'm part of something," Lydia smiled, leaned forward and kissed him. "And for now, that's good enough for me."


	73. Chapter 73

**73.**

Lydia didn't know what woke her up. A dream? A strange sound? A bright light behind her closed eyelids? She had no idea but suddenly she was wide awake. And she didn't feel tired at all. She opened her eyes and saw how the small, cozy fire painted its orange shapes at the ceiling of the small cave. How the wet stone glittered and the glowing mushrooms bathed in an eerie, green light. She heard the crackling of the wood when the flames slowly engulfed it and as she turned her gaze she saw the charred remains, still enveloped by the orange flames.

J'Ziir sat by the fire. He didn't move, only stared at the flames, buried in deep thoughts. There was a strange look in his eyes like he was thinking something so difficult that the outside world didn't exist at all. His pupils were two narrow slits and he was barely breathing. Lydia had never seen anyone sit so still hours at a time. She remembered him sitting like that when she fell asleep, watching him, knowing he was there, just on the edges of her vision. Sitting there, legs crossed, his arms resting on top of his knees, his tail curled around him and only the dark tip moving, to the rhythm of his mind. It was a clear indicator of his feelings and more than once J'Ziir had revealed his emotions through his tails. He could be completely dead, cold and silent and still be boiling of rage inside. And the only thing that hinted at his emotions was his tail. Trashing like an angry whip, from side to side, fast and furious.

And here he still was, in the same position, the same look on his face. Hours later, staying next to her. He was silent, unmoving, unfeeling. And yet his tail moved. Once again like it had a mind of its own. It left his side and slithered forward and suddenly Lydia felt how it softly touched her leg. She blinked and couldn't really believe what was happening. Didn't he notice that she was awake? Didn't he realize that she could feel it, that soft appendage rubbing against her leg?

Before she even knew how to react, his tail pulled away and something flashed in his eyes. Like he realized what it was doing like it was an untamed pet that he needed to control. He pulled it back, glanced at it angrily and curled it around his own leg once again. He reached out and tossed another wood to the fire. And then he resumed to his deep thoughts, his eyes grew distant and he was staring somewhere far, far away. And like before, his tail decided it could not be controlled so easily. It wanted something else, to touch the soft skin of Lydia's leg.

Lydia was mesmerized. She watched as it moved, up and down, up and down, slowly and carefully. And then it left his side, stopped and glanced back like it wanted to know did its owner notice. Lydia watched as it found its way under her blanket and this time it wasn't satisfied just by gently touching her leg. It reached higher, gently caressed her knee and then her thigh. At that point, she grabbed it and squeezed it hard. It didn't take long for J'Ziir to wake up from his half dead state. Like a fiery lighting, he turned to her, his sharp hunting knife at his hand and pressed against her throat.

"It's me, J'Ziir!" Lydia cried when the dangerous, strange look in his eyes didn't vanish. "Have you lost your mind?"

Those moments before he recognized her were some of the scariest of her life. Like his brain couldn't understand that it was really her, right there in front of him. His annoying but suddenly so important housecarl, the woman he was trying to banish from his mind and from his thoughts. His ears lifted and they were now pointing slightly outward as if he was listening to something very carefully. His narrow eyes widened and his pupils grew larger. His bared teeth vanished and he cleared his throat as he pulled back from her.

"What do you need?" he asked nonchalantly like Lydia wasn't lying on her back and fearing for life.

"You tried to kill me!" she whispered and sat up.

"As if you never wanted to get rid of me," J'Ziir pointed out and sheathed his knife. "Remember the troll at the road to High Hrothgar"

"Excuse me?" Lydia calmed down her beating heart. "When have I ever attacked you with a knife? And just because I squeezed your tail that was making moves on me."

J'Ziir stared at her and then he glanced at his tail that was now lying on the ground, next to his foot, looking completely innocent, brainless and unmoving.  _I didn't do anything!_  "No, it wasn't."

"Yes, it was!" she argued. "Don't tell me you didn't notice how it wiggled under my blanket and caressed my…"

"You talk like it has a mind of its own," J'Ziir interrupted her.

"It might as well have," Lydia scoffed. "Because it seems to know very clearly where it wants to be and what it wants to touch. Unlike its owner."

"Have you slept enough?" J'Ziir ignored her words. "Ready to leave?"

"No," Lydia shook her head. "I'm still in pain. My back is aching."

"You emptied two large bottles of healing potion," J'Ziir pointed out. "And you destroyed the rest of the food I managed to scrounge up. We don't even have any water left because you drank it all as well. And you're not alright? That's hard to believe."

"Well, I'm not," Lydia said sternly. "You want to go, then go. I'll follow you when I can."

He stood up and for a moment Lydia really thought he was going to get his things and be on his way. But instead, he walked to the entrance and came back carrying some firewood in his arms. He dropped them next to the sleeping roll and sat back down. A long sigh escaped from his mouth.

"Well, aren't you going?" Lydia asked when he just sat there, unmoving.

"My back is aching too," J'Ziir snapped at her." When I dragged you here last night, half dead. Have you been eating too many sweetrolls?"

"Are you saying that I'm fat?" Lydia glared at him. "It was my armor that weighed so much. If you'd lift me up now I bet you wouldn't even have to try."

"Are you sure?" J'Ziir glanced at her. "That it was the armor and not that layer of blubber under your chin?"

Lydia sighed. So, we are back at this, she thought. She had no idea what brought this up. The days when J'Ziir used to be awful to her, call her his slave, a moron or a nuisance were long gone, or so she wanted to believe. But here he was, once again running his mouth and throwing insults at her. Well, she thought as she prepared herself to shed some tears. Better use another tactic this time and kill him with kindness.

But she didn't know about the struggle her Thane was going through. Only insulting her held up the thin walls that he still managed to keep around him. Only making her mad and seeing her draw away from him silenced that awful need to reach out and pull her close. But somehow it all backfired. He calculated that she would get mad, stand up and walk away, in the best scenario she would even take her bedroll, stomp to the furthest corner of the cave and bury herself inside it for the rest of the night. What he didn't realize that he could have done the same, leave Lydia beside the fire and fortify his own fortress that was now crumbling down way too fast. If he wasn't careful, soon it would be as decrepit as the old Nordic ruins that dotted the landscape of Skyrim.

But all his careful analysis and calculations were thrown out of the window when Lydia's lower lip begun to tremble. Her eyes were filled with tears and that suffering look on her face twisted his insides painfully. She watched him like she had been betrayed by her own family member. Like someone very dear had stabbed her in the back and she couldn't understand the reason behind it.

"Why," she uttered. "Why are you so mean to me suddenly?"

"When have I ever been kind?" he asked her but couldn't look at her face. Instead, he stared at the flames till his eyes were hurting.

"I thought you might have changed," Lydia spoke and her voice was very quiet. "It seemed that you had."

"Changed?" J'Ziir grabbed her hand and yanked her closer. "Into what? To some Nordic hero, you are waiting to appear? Like I could suddenly turn from this ugly old cat into something else?"

"I don't need you to be something else," Lydia said and unlike him, she didn't raise her voice. "I know what you are. The good and the bad."

"There is only bad," J'Ziir released her hand but she didn't move away from him. "Like you just witnessed. And if you want to go and find someone nicer, I'm not standing in your way. Find the man you really want to be with."

"He is already here with me," Lydia suddenly understood the reason for his erratic behavior and cupped his face. "You can pretend to be bad all you want, throw your tantrums and show your ugly side, but I know that somewhere deep down inside this ugly, old cat, the good is doing it's best trying to hide. But I intend to find it."

"How?" J'Ziir was curious and he didn't want to push her hands away, even when every fiber of his being told him to.

"With love," Lydia kissed his forehead and then his nose. "Because I love  _you_."

"I heard it the first time," J'Ziir frowned. "You don't need to repeat it."

"I love you," Lydia giggled and wrapped her arms around him. "I love you, love you, love you, love you…"

"Enough already," J'Ziir pinched her lips shut.

"I'm going to keep telling you," Lydia insisted. "Until you get used to it. Until you can't live without hearing it. Until you can't even think of me without feeling it. I'm going to make sure that my image is the first thing you see in your mind when you wake up and when you go to sleep."

"And how you'll manage that?" J'Ziir leaned back when Lydia leaned closer. He was starting to feel things he tried his best to avoid. Her soft skin under her clothes was warm and burned against his own, her scent, her pine green eyes, deep and mysterious as the forests of Skyrim. Her brown hair that hanged loosely on her shoulders and followed her every movement like a silky veil.

"I know it will take time," Lydia whispered seductively and he had to draw his other ear back because her voice tickled his eardrums. For a soft, sexy whisper it was quite loud. He could have heard her miles away. "Weeks, maybe even months. It's a long process, so I better get started. And…there's no time like the present."

J'Ziir swallowed. He had an inkling of what she meant and he was very worried. They were here all alone and he had nowhere to run. Even his angry side, his most hurtful way of treating her didn't work anymore. His ignorance, his insult bounced off from her like spells from a magic ward. To him, it was all too unfair and he was still planning his next plan of action when Lydia completely surprised him. She grasped his shoulders and with all her strength she pushed him on his back and before he could get up and realize what was happening, she straddled him and smiled.

"Lydia," he muttered and she was enjoying his multiple reactions. The panic in his eyes, his hard arousal that she felt poking against her inner thigh and that slightly confused, alarmed look in his face.

"Relax," she cooed at him. "I won't hurt you. Not much anyway."

"Hurt me?" he asked and now there was amusement in his voice. Like he really wanted to see her besting him in battle and even injure him some way.

"Do you remember that night in Whiterun?" Lydia sighed and as his body twitched underneath her, she knew it was right there in his mind. All she had to do was open the door. "Do you know what was the best thing about it?"

"Are you…expecting me to answer to that?" J'Ziir frowned but he was not very eager to get away from her. His mind was settled now into this game, he wanted to see where it led and how far Lydia was able to take this.

"I will tell you," Lydia pouted. "If you let me."

"Alright, housecarl," J'Ziir lifted his hands and crossed them under his head like he was eager to hear this, settling in for a long and interesting story. "Go for it."

"You weren't careful with me," Lydia said and her answer surprised him. He cocked his eyebrow and stared at her.

"You say it like it's a bad thing," he rolled his eyes. "Weren't you looking for the best?"

"It was the best thing," Lydia slapped her hand against his mouth. "Just let me explain and don't interrupt me anymore, alright?"

He pushed her hand away, wanted to say something, argue maybe, but then he decided it was best to stay quiet. He looked indifferent, like nothing she said concerned him but his ears were pointed right at her and she almost giggled. He was listening very, very carefully.

"With other men," Lydia began and saw his ears flinch. Just mentioning someone else seemed to flair him up and she was happy that his strong body was momentarily trapped underneath her so he couldn't run away as fast as he wanted. "With other men, I've always felt like I was played, fooled, even tricked. Like I was some princess that needed their attention and all the honeyed words and empty promises. But with you…we didn't exchange many words. You didn't tell me you loved me just to get into my pants. You didn't promise me anything, you didn't spend hours trying to soften me up. You just took me, like I was yours to take. Even Jarl Ulfric offered me a place as his Queen, as that was something I really wanted. Most men who proposition me seem to think that there something big and grand that I'm after. That in order to feel the excitement I must have the moons and the stars and finest bedrooms and silky sheets underneath me."

"That's a long rant, but I don't see your point," J'Ziir chuckled.

"What I mean is," Lydia caressed his chest. "All I need is you. I don't want a bed. I could sleep on bathe re rock as long as I could share it with you. You are soft enough to be my pillow and warm enough to be my blanket."

"Is your monologue over?" J'Ziir grabbed her shoulders and tried to push her aside.

"Yes," Lydia smiled but didn't move an inch. "It's over. But something else is just starting. I won't talk anymore but I do intend to use my mouth. On your body."

"Wha..?"

"I want a repeat of that night," she pressed herself closer. He blinked and she felt how his heart was beating faster and how his muscles tightened. "And I don't want you to be nice or careful. Because I don't intend to give you mercy either."

She bit her lower lip and with the tip of her tongue, she touched his lips, softly and quickly. "And this time," she ran her hands down her chest. "I'll make sure you never forget. For as long as you live. Even if someone came after me, you'd still remember that it was I who loved you with all my heart."


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains adult content. 18+

**74.**

How could there ever be anyone after Lydia? When she was the only one he ever allowed to come this close. There had been two strong women in his life, two women, who he had truly cared for. The first one was his mother and up until that frightful day he remembered feeling love and adoration towards her, mixed with little fear and respect. And the second one was Beelei. His mother gave him his life and his dignity and when it was taken from him, Beelei gave it back. But in the end, he lost them both, one after the other. But even his Argonian lover, his trainer, his only friend after his captivity, hadn't been able to drill a hole through that silent, frozen fortress of his.

He was always sure that there would never be anyone. He tolerated Lydia but the longer she remained by his side, the more he got used to her. And like a ghost or a spirit, something he couldn't see or hear or grab and toss away, Lydia crept inside him and built herself a small, cozy little home. And now she indented to light the fire, settle down and move in for good.

She was sitting there, on top of him and smiled. Her words still hung in the air between them. And he knew that if he didn't push her away if he allowed this to happen, it would mean accepting her love and admitting that he felt something as well. This time he wouldn't be able to blame anyone but himself. And then that new voice spoke up again. He heard his patience, somewhere deep inside him, ordering him to push Lydia aside and focus on what was important.  _Revenge, revenge, revenge!_  But this new, kind, gentle, caring voice drowned his patience out completely and spoke with a soft, soothing tone.

_"_ _You have more in your life now,"_ it said. " _More than revenge. Someone who is willing to live and die by your side. Don't you think that's amazing? To find someone who loves you, as you are, with all your flaws? Who has seen what you can be at your worst and hasn't turned away? Who has listened to your insults and harsh words, who has cried countless tears for your behalf and who still is right here?"_

The words swept through him and they felt refreshing. Like stepping on a clear mountain stream on a hot, summer's day. Or standing on top of the tall mountain, breathing in the winter air and looking down. Something changed in him. He felt it, like rusty, ancient Dwemer gears turning on some old, long forgotten machine. It began to file things in his mind and pushed Jarl Ulfric and the flaming words like "revenge" and "murder" and "death" away from the limelight. It stored them away, not permanently and not very far so they would be easily located when needed. Instead, the machine brought forward words like friendship, compassion, Lydia, Raji, and family. He figured that "love" was still a bit too raw for his mind to handle; it didn't even know for sure what it meant but the next word he understood without explanation.

_Lust. (like two dogs in heat…no, this was something more!)_

His body was feeling it, his heart was pumping it. His blood filled with it. The intoxicating fumes that surrounded them both and trapped them at this moment, tied them together with its invisible strings. He knew it was more than that this time. The night they spent together in Whiterun. That was lust. Pure and simple. Satisfying a need they both had back then. But this…this was something else, something almost too dangerous for him to think about. There were feelings mixed in, sparkling like small nuggets of gold in hot, red lava stream. This time he didn't want to forget and he was tired of repeating to himself that he didn't want this. He had never wanted anything more.

Lydia yelped when he put his arms around her waist when he pulled her tighter to him and lifted his head. Her helpless moan was drowned out by his kiss which was warm and soft, filled with promise and anticipation. Lydia claimed she didn't want him to be slow or gentle but the way she sighed into their kiss told him otherwise. She pulled her hands against his chest and buried them into that thick, black fur that covered his body and there he held her, shielded in his arms. Her small, curious tongue slipped out of her mouth and begun to will its way into his and when he felt it on his sharp fangs, he tasted blood, metallic and coppery and felt wrong, almost crushed knowing that it was her blood that filled his senses. To hurt her, to cause her to bleed and be in pain, made him feel nauseous. He had never wanted her to feel safer than at this moment.

He drew back and watched her, her eyes gleaming and sparkling like diamonds in the last dying light of the fire. Whatever happened, he knew he would have this image inside of his head for the rest of his life.  _Lydia_. Right there in his arms. Her beautiful smile illuminating his life like a lighthouse on a cloudy, dark night when there were no stars, no auroras, and the moons hid from his view.

Before he had time to think or analyze more, Lydia leaned closer and kissed his forehead, his nose, his lips and then her hot, wet mouth begun to slide down. She stopped at his neck, caressed the fur that was slightly thinner, slightly greyer and felt the rough skin beneath it. She could imagine the heavy shackles weighing down on him and she wanted to erase those memories and create new ones, find every scar and kiss it, remark it as her territory from now on. She heard his breathing getting heavier and she smiled against his skin. With her fingertips, she explored his upper body and was sad to realize that beneath the fur there wasn't one single part that hadn't been damaged or injured in some way. The man she loved had his reasons for his anger and she was beginning to understand him better. His words told her his story but his body told her everything else, things he couldn't describe with his mouth. Her heart fluttered, swelled and she pressed herself against him as if that somehow could relay all the love she felt for him. Was there no way of stopping that boat that sailed back and forth in the heavy, stormy seas of his mind? The boat he used to pick up his tormented memories like cargo filled with rotting corpses. Carcasses that should have been dead and buried but which came back to life when he wanted, when he opened the door and invited them in.

J'Ziir came to the sudden realization that he would feel perfectly content if Lydia just laid there by his side. They didn't have to do anything, it was enough just to feel her close. But her closeness made him want more. His big hands with sharp, deadly claws slid down her sides and she squirmed and chuckled. Then, at the edge of her waistline, they began to return back up, only this time tucked deep under her thin shirt. He curved his claws upwards but was careful not to hurt her, he only wanted to feel her skin fill with goose pumps. He felt how a chill ran down her spine, it verberated in him and she arched her back and bit her lower lip to stifle a soft, breathy moan. Her cheeks were already flushed and her body was trembling and he barely even touched her. He intended to take this slow, enjoy all the tiny moans and helpless cries, little whimpers and muffled sobs that she uttered.

But Lydia had other plans. As she said, she expected no mercy from him. She pulled further, pried his hands away and without any hesitation she tore her shirt off and tossed it aside. It landed right on top of the smoldering remains of their bonfire and like their mutual desire it burst into flames and burned brightly. Later Lydia asked him about the shirt and he was completely caught off guard. He actually couldn't remember what happened to it.

Lydia took his hands and guided them, showed him where she wanted him to touch. But he didn't need guidance. Ever since that night when it all came back to him, in that hard, stony bed at High Hrothgar, he knew all her sensitive spots, all the places were those whispers and murmurs were hidden. Places that made her cry and gasp. He sat up and looked her dead in the eyes as his claws untied the knots on her breast band. The cloth slipped off and melted away and his raspy tongue found her sensitive, already hardened nipples. She threw her head back, wrapped her arms around his head and her pupils dilated. She saw the ceiling above them, the glowing mushrooms and the long strips of moss. The mushrooms were pulsating like she was. The wetness dripped from the moss, it was slowly leaking, like she was. Her body ached for more. He pushed her back, grabbed her hands and forced them behind her so that she had support herself. He grabbed her behind and lifted her higher so that he could now attack any part of her naked upper body with his tongue and with his lips.

His tongue was like wet sandpaper but it made her tingle all over. She was already getting closer to the edge –  _no, not so quick_ , she thought in her frantic mind. His wet mouth with its dangerous sharp fangs brought out quivering, little sobs of pleasure from her. Her body was so responsive to his touch, her nipples so tender and sensitive and with each lick, with each suck, his mouth made her grow wet and slick and needy. She opened up like a soft, juicy fruit and graved something inside her and she was silently cursing when she realized he was still comfortably wearing his breeches and had no intentions of taking them off.

He smelled her scent, sensed her building arousal. Lydia's plan didn't include mercy but his plan didn't involve a quick release. She might beg for it like someone else would beg for mercy. But he wasn't about to let her off easy. He focused on her round, beautiful breasts and he intended to keep his focus on them for a while longer. And as his mouth continued to tease, to lick and to suck, to rub and torture, his hand slipped slower, brushed her bellybutton and her stomach convulsed. Her body told her that he would be welcomed, that the road ahead was cleared of traps. He pushed his hand inside her pants and begun his slow and meticulous assault. Lydia began to pant, tiny droplets of sweat broke out on her skin, they trickled down her body and between her breasts. He tasted her sweat and that rusty old machine inside his head stored that information for him. This was the taste of his  _woman_. And that knowledge was placed in a sturdy safe so that it would never be lost or destroyed. He felt her squeeze around his fingers, like a wet, silky fabric, convulsing slowly and trying to accommodate his probing touch.

And all too soon he backed away. Lydia uttered a disappointed moan and J'Ziir grinned. That glitter of light in his eyes, that amused, an almost playful smile on his face. He hardly resembled the sulky, harsh Dragonborn she knew. She had all but forgotten her own words, now her only wish was him to continue what he was doing with his hands and with his mouth. He touched her shoulder and turned her around so that she was now lying on her stomach. She could feel the cold, stone floor through the bedroll and the frozen moist begun to seep into her. But in the next moment, she forgot the cold and the stone and the icicles hanging from the ceiling above her. J'Ziir's tongue traced the outline of the big, reddish scar on her back. His touch was so gentle, so concerned and considerate, that tears broke out between her closed eyelids. She was unable to stop them and her heart swelled until there was no more room for anything else than for this man and for this moment. She turned and reached for him, took his hand and wrapped it around herself. And for a moment they just laid there, side by side, in each other's arms.

"When I die," J'Ziir spoke with a low, defeated voice. "Don't follow me, Lydia. Just find your own, brighter path. Don't fall into the darkness with me."

"Even if it was clear spring day," Lydia responded. "I wouldn't be able to see anything without you. And when you die, I'm going with you, whether you like it or not."

"I don't want you to," he said and buried his face into her hair. "I don't want to drag you with me into the deepest depths of Oblivion."

"I don't care where you go," Lydia whispered and turned to him. "I'll be here. Right by your side."

_I don't want to kill you!_ he wanted to shout.  _Leave me before it's too late. I don't want to be responsible for your death. Not yours. To see you die because of me, instead of me…before me…I'd rather go before you, so that I don't have stay here, all alone…_

"I know," Lydia kissed him and pulled him closer. "I know. But we are not dying right now. And even though the world around us in plunged into chaos and we are tossed right into the middle of it all, let's not think about it now. Forget the war, the dragons, and the demands of the Greybeards. Forget everything else but me. I am here and I want to be with you."

He couldn't turn away from here, even if the World-Eater himself landed outside their cave and demanded to face him. And as Lydia wanted, he gave her no mercy that night.


	75. Chapter 75

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains adult content. 18+

**75.**

She felt like a storm swept through the cave. Expect this storm was made out of fire and brimstone, feelings she couldn't describe with her words. Only her heart understood everything, accepted everything and embraced everything. She was like a moth fluttering towards the hot flames, knowing she might die but couldn't care less. If she died, she would die in the best place possible, inside his arms.

His hands were on hers, his mouth glided down her body and she felt his claws on her hips when he practically ripped her pants off. Her smallclothes followed the same path and the next morning Lydia was glad to find them intact. When he nudged her thighs apart she wasn't afraid or ashamed to expose herself to his eyes and to his touch. A few seconds before he actually touched her, she wondered what it would be like to feel that raspy, rough tongue against her. And when he finally tasted her, parted her folds and devoured her, her eyes widened and she tried to push him away. It was too much and too hard. Her thighs tried to close in on him but he pushed them apart and used his strong arms to hold her open. Lydia's breathing turned into panting and after a while it didn't resemble breathing at all. She felt like she was drowning like her lungs were filled with water. She was plunged headfirst into a boiling hot spring and the bubbles swirled around her, inside her and culminated into that one, tight spot between her legs where his curious, thick tongue explored and wandered.

She didn't know was it pain or pleasure she was feeling or both mixed together but she was no longer trying to pull away. Instead, she ground herself against him. He sensed her sudden change of mood, her obedience, and her submission and he probed deeper. His mouth found the tiny little bud filled with nerve endings and as he brushed it, she jerked up, looked at him and she bit her lower lip so hard that she tasted her own blood. Seeing her like that suddenly brought back Brynjolf's words of advice.  _"Ladies like licking. You have a rough tongue, use it!"_

He wondered why only now, weeks later he put his brother's words into action. The pleasure his mouth seemed to give her was beyond anything he could've imagined. And he hadn't realized that he was receiving as much pleasure from it, maybe even more. But as much as he liked doing it, he couldn't help but notice how his mind filed information for him. Lydia's taste contained now more than the aroma of her sweat. He was annoyed when he realized it. That his mind couldn't completely shut out its calculative part, even in this situation when he wanted nothing more than to concentrate solely on her. Like it was somehow planning to use this information later.

As such thoughts crossed his mind he saw Lydia open her eyes and glanced at him. It was the kind of look that wondered what happened. Why didn't he continue? He chuckled and bent his head lower. He felt her nails in the back of his head and begun to rub and tease that little nub that gave her so much pleasure. At the same time, he pushed one of his fingers inside her and felt how her slick inner walls first resisted and then accommodated him. Her moans were now high and heavy, the small cave echoed with them and even his mare that stood in the corner, half asleep, glanced at them like the loud noises and the unexpected ruckus disturbed its rest.

Lydia climaxed around his fingers and against his mouth. And one more piece of information locked into place in his mind. Her taste when she was spent, floating on air when she held on for as long as she could and finally let go. When her muscles convulsed like the tide, coming and going, over and over again.

Her chest heaved and she whimpered when he pulled his fingers from her when he laid beside her and allowed her to breathe. He smiled and felt awfully content, very satisfied with himself. He was still hard as a rock but his own need could wait, he was still holding on to it with iron chains. He found it amusing that Lydia had boldly claimed to use her own mouth on his body. Instead, things turned differently. She was now laying there, gasping for air and J'Ziir knew for sure that this wouldn't be the last time he indented to do this to her. It seemed to cripple her entirely and for once she didn't have anything smart to say.

"You bastard," Lydia managed to smack him in his arm. "Why did you keep this hidden from me? Do you have any idea how many times I've dreamed of this?"

J'Ziir frowned. He wasn't sure what she meant. Was she really saying that she would have agreed before? In any of those countless nights, they spent together, under the open sky, sleeping in their bedrolls, next to each other.

"What?" he muttered, confused.

"Who was it?" Lydia sat up, supported herself with her arms and peered at him, her eyes flaring dangerously. "That taught you these things?"

"Do they need to be taught?" J'Ziir asked and his eyes weren't focused on her face. Instead, they caressed her breasts which were at the same level with his face.

"Oh, so you're saying that you just absorbed all the information of female anatomy magically?" Lydia smacked him again and this time he grabbed her and pulled her against him. "Everything requires practice, even this. So, who was it?"

J'Ziir looked at her and considered should he tell her about Beelei. He had told her about everything else, but Beelei…she was locked behind a secret door that he had sealed tightly all those years ago. Her death was still too difficult, too raw for him to handle and whenever he tried to open that door, feelings of pain and grief overtook him. Even more so when he knew that her death was caused by him. If she hadn't saved him, she would have stayed hidden in her swamp and no one would have found her small, little shack. But they were after him and his tracks led them straight to her. When he couldn't be found, they took her instead. And when she resisted, the brown, murky waters of the swamp were colored with her blood. And the lone cry that echoed through the marshes was her last dying breath.

In the end, telling Lydia about Beelei was surprisingly easy. He just opened his mouth and the words begun to pour out. Lydia ceased her struggling and just listened. All the jealousy in her melted away. After all, she couldn't hate a woman who was dead. Instead, she could only be grateful to her for saving this man's life and letting him go so that he could come to her. When his words ran out, Lydia kissed his cheek and hugged him.

"Beelei," she whispered her name in the dark. "Thank you."

Talking about his long-dead Argonian lover didn't completely soften him up and he was still very conscious of Lydia's naked body that was pressed tightly against his own. His hands begun to wander and Lydia sighed, not sharply like before but softly and quietly. It felt like the kiss of hot air which arrived before a thunderstorm. Moist and heavy but also carrying a promise of something better. When the storm was over, the air was fresh and crisp and pure.

But J'Ziir was never afraid of storms. He liked them more than the peace that came afterward. And the storm that was now rising from the horizon was something he didn't want to miss. He saw the look of surprise on Lydia's face when he lifted her on top of him and grinned.

"Housecarl," he said with a stern voice. "You threatened to use your mouth on my body. That still hasn't happened. Have you forgotten your duties?"

"Oh, forgive me, my Thane," Lydia laughed. "I am your sword and your shield."

"I don't need you to be neither right now," J'Ziir interrupted him and glanced down. His arousal was clearly visible. Lydia caressed his stomach and allowed her hand to glide down. She touched his hard-on through his breeches and the fire was lit once again, burning brighter than ever.

"I am sworn to carry your burdens," Lydia muttered as she slowly pulled his breeches down and took a long, good glance at him. Her cheeks flushed, her eyes sparkled and she reached out and caressed him with her soft fingers.

"You're talking way too much," J'Ziir pointed out and Lydia punched his leg.

He chuckled but his laughter was turned into a guttural moan when her wet mouth suddenly wrapped around his throbbing erection. Lydia was pleased to hear it and wanted to give him as much pleasure as he had given her. She didn't know exactly what she was doing and was she doing it wrong but the sounds that came out from his mouth told her that she was on the right path. He was big and hard and hot and she felt how he grew even larger under her lips. And once again she wondered would it fit inside her without ripping her apart. She didn't realize that he was pushed towards the edge way too quickly and when his hands grasped her shoulders and pulled her up, she was far from finished with him. When his lips smacked against hers, she brought her hands down and continued to stroke him.

That was when the iron shackles broke and his long deprived need for her was released. His fingers found her, wet and hot and he didn't need more encouragement. His body demanded and his mind demanded, only that small calculating part was still considering where this would lead but it was quickly drowned out by his beating heart. He pushed her underneath him, on her stomach against the bedroll. Lydia didn't resist. She raised her behind when she felt him between her legs. And like they both agreed, she didn't want mercy and he didn't give it to her. He pushed himself inside her, her knees almost buckled and they moaned. He was buried to the hilt, hot and huge and burning. When he began to move, she felt like she was an anvil and he was a hammer, pounding harder and faster until only sparks flew between them.

J'Ziir's claws sank into her skin even when he tried his best not to hurt her. They punctured the soft flesh and trickles of blood dripped down into the stone floor. Neither one of them noticed it until much, much later. But at that moment it was only him and her and their bodies that danced together. Her walls squeezed him and he knew he wouldn't last long, not against something like this. He could handle death and pain and torture, the cold and the rain and the icy wind of Skyrim. But he had no idea how to handle Lydia. It was like torture, the pain was replaced with pleasure. He grasped her hair into his other hand and saw beads of sweat falling down on her shoulders, her neck, and her breasts; they swung back and forth as she moved underneath him. He bent over her and touched them, took the round mounds into his palms and massaged them. Then his other hand slid down to where they were joined and begun to rub her.

Lydia's arms gave up and she fell to the bedroll. Her knees buckled only seconds later and J'Ziir followed her, propping himself on his strong arms, never once separating from her completely. Lydia felt how everything inside her begun to shrink and the pressure built up and she cried out, grabbed the bedroll and her other hand found J'Ziir's face. She brought it down to her and kissed him and his breath was heavy and low right beside her ear.

And their world exploded, almost at the same time. He came first and as his seed spilled inside her, she began to shake and tremble. She writhed underneath him and as all the strength from his arms disappeared, he fell on top of her and breathed in the scent of her hair. After a long, long time the world grew silent and they laid there just enjoying the afterglow. When J'Ziir finally moved aside, Lydia felt bare and naked. She was feeling so warm and comfortable under his weight, so secure and protected. She watched his face when he stretched there beside her and wondered what would happen now. How their relationship would change and what it meant in the long run.

When he pulled her into his arms and closed his eyes, she realized she didn't want to think about it yet. She glanced up and saw the ceiling and the icicles and the moss and the mushrooms. This small little cave would forever remain in her memory as the place where she truly found her place next to this man. Where she discovered things that no one else knew. She fell in love with this cave as she fell in love with this man. And she wished they could come back here one day and spent a night by the fire. Where there would be no one else but the two of them.

J'Ziir was asleep. Lydia's breath calmed down and soon enough she slept too. Neither of them noticed how his part of the Eye begun to glow. It was right next to Lydia's forehead and it pulsated when it touched her skin. The amulet knew that the time of its destruction was getting closer. And so it gathered information which it needed.

_Lydia's living soul_. The amulet held a part of J'Ziir's soul, his father's soul and now it slipped unnoticed into Lydia's sleeping mind and took a part of her with it. She would never notice but the Eye was careful and knew what the future held. In order to stop a disaster that could crush the Dragonborn and the world where he lived in, it took a piece of her love as well. And from deep within J'Ziir it managed to locate the tightly sealed chest of his emotions. It didn't open it, only wiggled inside and found what it was looking for. It knew that J'Ziir himself wasn't aware that the chest existed.

The Eye took a small piece of that strong, destructive and violent love and united it with Lydia's feelings. It knew it needed its other half to complete its mission. That other part would arrive when it needed to. Watching those two and knowing their feelings for each other made it feel a little better. It might be able to save their lives.

But one depressing thought haunted it. It still wasn't sure could it spare them both.


	76. Chapter 76

**76.**

"So, to Winterhold then," Lydia stated when they were finally on the road, later that afternoon.

They left the small cave only a few hours ago. It took way too long to get away from her arms and the lazy morning wasn't spent eating a late breakfast. And J'Ziir could feel it in his body. It was utter exhaustion but not the kind of you get from the battlefield. This was different, his limbs were tired and even his mind felt hazy and groggy. Like the air in the cave was poisoned with their passion, filled with the intoxicating scent of desire. Leaving was almost impossible and it seemed to cause weird withdrawal symptoms.

He pulled his mind together and thought how long it would take to reach Winterhold. Lydia's horse was dead and they couldn't return to Windhelm to buy her a new one. And as sturdy as his mare was, it couldn't carry them both and all their gear. They could go to Whiterun, spent a couple of nights there and then continue on, but that would take too much time and after everything that happened in Windhelm, J'Ziir didn't want to waste any more of it.

"The College is way up north," Lydia took out her map and examined it.

"I know where it is," J'Ziir replied and yanked the map from her. "Chances are they have some information about the scroll."

"And if they don't?" she looked at him.

"Then they don't," J'Ziir shrugged. "Then we'll think of something else."

Lydia nodded. J'Ziir was right. This was their best shot and if it failed, they would find some other solution. She felt more encouraged than ever and was sure that this nightmare where dragons ended up ravaging her homeland was soon coming to its end.

The road they followed led over tall, snowy mountain and after a while, Lydia began to feel hungry. All their supplies and food were left in Windhelm and the little amount that J'Ziir had managed to find was all eaten the day before. This morning she hadn't eaten anything. Not food, anyway, she smiled to herself. She dragged her feet behind him and when she saw the bush filled with red, plump berries she didn't hesitate and dashed forward. J'Ziir only saw her brown hair that whisked by him and then she was at them, tearing the berries and stuffing them in her face, moaning when the sweet juice filled her mouth. Like she hadn't seen food for days. J'Ziir stared at her and when the juice dripped down her chin, an amused smile crept to the corners of his mouth.

Lydia muttered something and saw another bush deeper in the forest. She headed towards it and J'Ziir frowned. The forest around them was quiet and snowy, he didn't hear anything but that didn't necessarily mean they were alone. Finally, when Lydia just headed forward, from one bush to another like a hungry rabbit, J'Ziir guided his mare after her. The road disappeared and the forest closed around them. He pricked his ears and kept his eyes open. Skyrim, that wicked old maid, was never as safe as it seemed.

It was his mare that first sensed something. It stepped sideways and its ears turned. Lydia was still chomping down snowberries and couldn't hear anything. And only moments before chaos was upon them, J'Ziir heard it too. Footsteps. Heavy and hurried. Someone was running through the snow, scared and frightened.

The woman emerged behind the trees, screaming and begging for help. At first, J'Ziir didn't realize what she was running from but then he saw the dark, massive figure coming behind her, fast and ruthless. He was quick enough to pull Lydia aside when the woman ran past them and that horrible monstrosity followed her. It didn't seem to notice them or if it did, it paid them no heed. They saw how it attacked her, tore the limbs of her body. The snow beneath was soon covered with bloodstains and J'Ziir heard bones cracking and breaking between the creature's teeth. She shrieked, a guttural scream of terror rose from her mouth but it was cut short when her pursuer sliced her throat open with one, sharp, long claw.

When the woman was dead, it dropped her body and turned. For a moment it stared at them and J'Ziir recognized him. Lydia was covering behind his back but like a brave housecarl that she was, she pulled out her sword and stepped forward. Before she could do anything, the creature passed them and disappeared back the way it came. And J'Ziir didn't waste any time. He pushed himself to his feet and rushed after the creature. He heard Lydia's voice when she called his name but none of that mattered right now. The snow around his feet was heavy and wet but he didn't care, he couldn't lose that abnormal mutation in front of him.

He managed to reach it and noticed that it didn't run that fast after all. He wasn't sure was it because all the wounds and bleeding cuts in its body or did it intentionally slow down but he was able to follow it. It led him to a crumbled, old fort and when they approached it, he heard voices from within and the creature in front of him sped up. He saw a dozen people in the fort, trying their best to keep the thing away, shooting arrows at it, yelling and cursing when it came closer. When it entered the fortress, J'Ziir lost sight of it but he heard enough to know what happened to those men inside the walls.

He located a hole in the wall and crept inside. He was just in time to see the last of the brutish Nords die in the hands of that thing. When his body fell to the ground, an eerie emptiness surrounded the place. J'Ziir stood up and walked closer. He knew that the creature heard him but it didn't turn and attack him, for now at least. And that told him that despite this beast's appearance, there was some humane part that knew who he was.

"Vilkas?" J'Ziir said his name and that thing turned and growled.

Its eyes were bleeding, its other hand was injured and broken, fingers cut off and the rotten flesh dangling like a putrid, dead lizard. It was able to stand even though its legs were slashed and covered by bloody wounds, its thick hide punctured by countless arrows. He saw pieces of flesh missing from its body, large burns, and charred fur. It was thin and its ribs were showing through its skin, almost puncturing it like sharp, twisty daggers. It stood tall and massive but its posture was not threatening. It seemed tired, exhausted and ready to fall over and die. And J'Ziir saw its human side, crying and cursing, howling and moaning inside of it and wondered what happened and how did this man, his brother, the husband of his sister, end up here.

They stood like that, watching each other for a while, then Lydia's frantic voice called out from outside the fort and the creature lost its humanity. It forgot its pain and its weariness and saw only an enemy standing in front of it. In these past few weeks it had been surrounded by attackers and bandits and now everyone who came close to it was a traitor. It forgot that it knew the person in front of it and the human inside it of was once again trapped, powerless and paralyzed. Neither of them knew where the beast ended and the human began. The torture had united them so tightly in the past weeks that changing back to human through sheer will was a long forgotten skill.

J'Ziir knew he was in trouble when the creature lowered its head and snarled. If this was just a regular wolf, an animal with no connection to his world, killing it would be simple and easy. But he could not kill this man. Neither could he allow it to hurt him or Lydia. He pulled out his axes but wasn't sure what he could do. Only defend himself but that wouldn't resolve anything. He knew he had to debilitate it and somehow bring it down without killing it or hurting it too much.

When the creature lurched forward, he rolled aside but its claws managed to grab his armor and with one heavy swing its paw, it tossed him around the yard. It was injured and hurt but not weak or easy to take down. He shook his head and saw Lydia on the other side of the fort. She hadn't found the whole he used to crawl in but instead climbed up on the tall, crumbling wall of the fortress and looked down. She reached for her bow and when J'Ziir saw it, he remembered something.

Lydia's knapsack. When he poured its contents out while looking for the healing potions, he saw a small, grey vial among the other things. Paralysis poison. He glanced at the creature and decided that one more arrow wouldn't do much more harm. He stood up, was able to dodge the next attack which was quick and deadly and would have surely torn his other leg off. He yelled to Lydia while he kept his eyes on the beast.

"Paralysis poison!" he shouted. "Use it!"

At first, Lydia didn't seem to understand what he meant but then she quickly dropped her knapsack to the ground and rummaged through it. The beast was now circling him, its teeth bared, its claws spread and its eyes wild. J'Ziir saw pieces of flesh hanging from its jaws and decided that if Lydia wouldn't have time to shoot, he would defend himself with deadly force if necessary.

Lydia didn't have time. The wolf attacked and he swung his ax. It sunk deep into its flesh almost cut off its other arm. And as he tried to pull his weapon away, he noticed that it was stuck into the bone and tearing by force only jammed it deeper. The beast howled and brought down its other paw. It struck him in the head and he fell down, saw stars and heard loud ringing sound in his ears. He smelled its stench above him, saw the blood on the snow that dripped from its teeth and knew if he didn't think of something, this would be the end of him. Those massive jaws would crush his skull like a gourd. Lydia screamed but he couldn't hear what she said.

And then it came to him. The only thing he could think of. Lydia reminded him later that he was the Dragonborn, he could have used his Thu'um. And he confessed to her that he didn't remember and that would using his shouts might have caused unnecessary injuries that could have killed it outright.

Her name dropped from his lips like a soft beam of light. He murmured it, then he said it louder, still no effect.

"Sura!" he roared and the creature jerked, as something stabbed it. Its bleeding eyes were momentarily filled with sorrow, fear, and sadness and at that moment Lydia found the poison and released an arrow that sunk right into its back.

J'Ziir knew that the effect wouldn't last long and in an instant, he grabbed the iron chains that were lying on the ground. Lydia hopped down, ran to him and together they managed to secure the beasts before it started to move. And when it began they were both happy that the chains were strong enough and attached to the stone walls with sturdy iron hooks.

"What is going on?" Lydia demanded to know and stared at the creature. "Why didn't you kill it?"

"Don't you recognize him?" J'Ziir glanced at her and then back at the beast that was still gnarling, roaring, squirming but tightly bound and secured in its place.

"Someone you know?" she cocked her eyebrow. "An old lover, maybe?"

"Someone we both know," J'Ziir said. "And I only have one lover and she's a stubborn Nord who never believes anything I say."

"We both know?" Lydia was confused.

"Look closely, housecarl," J'Ziir nodded towards the creature. "Don't you remember the happy groom from Riften? About four weeks ago?"

"Wh..what?" Lydia stared at him and then the beast. And then she whispered, not really believing it herself. "Vilkas?"

"Yes," J'Ziir stepped closer to the tortured beast. "Wolf, what are you doing here? And where did you leave my sister?"


	77. Chapter 77

**77.**

They searched the old fort and found things that caused shivers to run down their spines. Rooms filled with corpses, torture devices splattered with old blood, stinky cells with sturdy iron bars. They saw torn off limbs and gnawed bones, werewolf heads stuck on wooden pikes, their eyes dead and silent, jaws agape and teeth bared in a deadly grin. Lydia covered her mouth with her hand and gasped. Her eyes were wide and terrified.

"What is this place?" she shivered and grabbed J'Ziir's hand.

He didn't answer but it wasn't the first time he saw it. A place so similar to his own memories, so close it almost made him throw up. He felt how his stomach twisted into painful knots and he had to swallow, inhale and force his feet to keep moving. He didn't have to guess what this place was, he knew all about the horrific things that took place here.

They arrived in a small room. Few rickety beds were pushed against the walls and the door in the other side of the room was locked. Lydia opened the chests in hopes of finding the key. All she found were a couple of old books and some worn out rags. J'Ziir glanced at the tables, books, pieces of food, empty mead bottles and a small note. It contained only a few, hastily written words.

_"The white bitch is looking for its mate. Get rid of it!"_

The white bitch? he frowned. He'd seen only a few of the large cats – he assumed they were referring to a saber tooth - in Skyrim and most of them lived on the northern parts of the land, where the snow covered the landscape and the mountains. And none of the creatures were smart enough to actively search for its mate. If its mate died it just moved on till it found another. Sabertooth's didn't bond for life.

He heard a small click and saw a little smile on Lydia's face when she opened the door. She had used her ebony dagger to pick the lock and J'Ziir admitted she was getting quite good at it. Although Lydia didn't approve pickpocketing or stealing from the poor, she had no problems of picking the locks in bandit caves or in the house of some proud, overpowered noble. Sometimes she even enjoyed it. J'Ziir nodded to her and she entered the small room alone. While she searched through it, he scanned the rest of the papers and the books that covered the table. Nothing else seemed important. Only that one particular note. He heard Lydia's footsteps when she came out of the room and when he turned to her, her face looked confused. She was carrying the fragments of an old weapon.

"I know what these are," she said in a quiet voice. "They belong to the Companions."

"Like the man outside," J'Ziir noted. "I guess we'll have to take them back then."

"How?" Lydia asked. "We can't bring Vilkas to Whiterun like that."

She was right, J'Ziir admitted. They had to think of another way. He thought about Winterhold and the college and realized that once again the Dragons and the World-Eater had to wait. So far the land hadn't collapsed on itself and the people weren't losing their hope. He thought about Raji, and how worried she must be. He hadn't heard anything about her since Riften. And if Vilkas was here...what if something had happened to her as well? Ulfric's assassins. That was the first thing that came to him and once again he felt a painful twist in his stomach. Losing Raji all over again was something he didn't want to go through.

"J'Ziir?" Lydia said and stuffed the fragments inside her knapsack. "What are we going to do?"

"Let's go," he said and she followed him back outside.

When they emerged from the fort, the dreadful, tired beast chained in iron shackles had turned in to a man and lay unconscious on the ground. They both noticed that Vilkas was as tortured, as thin and as wounded as the beast he had turned in to. J'Ziir sighed. He had no idea how long this transformation would last but he was almost sure that Vilkas wasn't able to control his changes. And at any moment this weak, tired man would once again turn in to that raging, deadly creature that lived inside him. He guessed that the torture bound those two together so tightly that they couldn't tell each other apart anymore.

"You need to go," J'Ziir turned to Lydia and her eyes flashed. "Take my horse and leave."

"What?" Lydia stared at her. "Where?"

"Whiterun," J'Ziir explained and guided her towards the main gate. "Go and look for Raji."

"And tell her what?" Lydia pushed his hand away.

"Tell her," J'Ziir tried to gather his thoughts. "That we found Vilkas. And then..."

He stopped. He had no idea what he would do, where he could take the wolf so that they wouldn't kill each other on the way. Leaving him hanging there in the chains was no solution either. Vilkas was hurt, he was weak. He needed a secure place to rest and heal. A place where the crazed wolf wouldn't be able to attack him if he changed. His brain was working like a machine, mapping the land and looking for a suitable place. And then one possible solution came to him. If he had time to think longer he might have found another way, but for now, this had to be enough.

"You know old the mine near Riverwood?" he asked Lydia.

"Embershard?" Lydia nodded. "Yes, I know it...but..."

"Head there first," he instructed her. "Clear it out. There might be some bandits but nothing you can't handle. There is a room at the center of the mine, like a cell or a treasury. Open it and leave the key somewhere close by. After that, get Raji and come back together."

"And you?"

"I'll go there," he glanced back. "With him. But I need the mine to be empty. I can't fight the bandits and have a rabid werewolf on my back."

"Alright," Lydia nodded. "Alright. I'll go. Just...be careful."

"I'll try," he said. "And maybe you should tell Raji...to be prepared. If the worst happens and he can't be saved."

"I will," Lydia's lower lip trembled. "But just make sure you get there in one piece."

"I know," J'Ziir sighed. "For Skyrim and all that, right."

"No," Lydia shook her head. "Not for Skyrim. For me."

To hear her say such tender words still made him feel uncomfortable. At least this time she didn't say she loved him which spared them from an awkward silence. Lydia hopped on to his mare, looked at him one last time and then she was off. The forest covered her and when the snow settled it was like she had never been there in the first place.

J'Ziir turned and heard loud screams coming from the yard. Calmly he walked back and witnessed the gruesome change from a man to a beast, heard the crackling of the bones and the agonizing moaning that soon turned into roars. The creature was still tied up and it raged and howled as it yanked the chains, tried to pull them off the walls. J'Ziir was ready to move if one of the hooks would give in but they were quite sturdy and didn't give up even under the immense power of the creature. The wolf heard him but couldn't turn. It snarled and snapped its jaws as he walked in to view. There he stood and watched and as their eyes met, he was as cold as ice.

"Brother," he began in a calm, almost soothing voice. "Here's what we'll do. You and I are leaving this place. I have no intentions of hurting you and I think you know it. But I might have to cut off your limbs if you can't control yourself. Just to keep us both safe."

The wolf snarled and lunched forward but the chains stopped it and yanked it back. J'Ziir didn't move an inch. A gruesome smile rose to his face and the beast before him growled.

"It seems you don't understand," J'Ziir sighed. "But go ahead and make this difficult, if you want."

He pulled out his other ax and the wolf whined and stepped back. It still remembered and felt the immense pain of the weapon on its other arm. He swung it in the air and stepped closer. And as he was getting closer, the wolf tried its best to get away.

"See, like that," he nodded but didn't sheath his ax. Instead, he pointed it straight to its wounded arm. "You try to attack me once more and I'll cut that thing right off. Do we understand each other now?"

The wolf whined and bend its head down. Its tail quivered and it drew it between its legs. That was a clear sign of submission. J'Ziir believed he could control the thing but if it decided to attack him, the ax wouldn't be enough. He might be able to cut off its arm but it was bigger, stronger and even faster than he was. Right now only the memory of pain kept it at bay. He glanced at the chains but knew he couldn't take his eyes of the wolf. It was submissive now but he saw clearly the anger and the thirst for blood behind that passive gaze. And something else, something he knew so well himself.

The will to die. To just end it all. And if that feeling emerged too strongly, the wolf wouldn't care about the pain or losing its arm. It would go all the way and drag him along with it. He had ordered Lydia to leave and prepare a place where he could take Vilkas but the problem now was getting him there so that neither of them would be hurt or dead before they reached the mine. He left the wolf snarling in the chains and inspected the place once again. He found nothing that could help him. In the torture room, he saw shackles that were covered in blood and filled with sharp spikes but he didn't want to cause any more pain to the creature. He was almost sure that it didn't attack him on purpose. It was blinded by pain and couldn't tell the difference between a friend and an enemy.

He walked back outside and watched the wolf, still squirming and trying its best to free itself from the chains. In this form, it was an animal, nothing more than that. And he remembered a Thu'm he'd learned months ago. Something that helped to calm the creatures of the wild. He hadn't used it much because he was always able to avoid angry bears or territorial saber tooth's. But it was his best option and so he used it. And soon as the shout left his body, he bent down in pain, closed his eyes and swallowed. The shouts caused him to feel the same agony he felt when he absorbed a dragon's soul. With the Thu'um it wasn't as intense but that was one of the reasons he rarely used them in battle. No one could explain the cause for the pain, not Arngeirn or Esbern. Paarthurnax might have known but so far he didn't have a chance to talk to the old dragon about it. When he opened his eyes moments later, the wolf was covered in a green glow and it was standing very still and calm. He approached it; it saw him but didn't attack. It seemed peaceful and quiet.

"Feel good?" he asked but the wolf didn't react. He couldn't tell how long the effect would last but he knew he would have to use the Thu'um many times along the way. And that would mean more pain, more muscle spasm, and nausea. But for this man, he was ready to go through all that. To keep him alive and safe he was willing to experience much worse than this.

Because they were family now.

He removed the chains from the sturdy hooks but didn't untie the wolf. Having the creature chained would at least give him some kind of chance to jump out of the way before using his calming Thu'um again. He circled the wolf so that he was standing on its side and pulled the chains. The creature followed him without a fight. As they left the bloody fort behind them, his inner map found a route that led through the narrow valley between the mountains. A path where they might not meet anyone. He looked back and the wolf still followed him without resisting.

Whatever we face on that path, he thought as he watched its bleeding eyes and its ravaged body. I will keep us both safe. You have my word on that _._


	78. Chapter 78

**78.**

In the end, he couldn't keep his promise. By the time they arrived at Embershard, hours and hours later, they were tired, hurt and enraged. J'Ziir felt like the last shards of his strength was seeping out from his body and he begged that the latest Thu'um he used to calm the angry beast behind him would be sufficient. All he wanted was to lock the creature in the cell and save them both from killing each other.

He had two big wounds that were bleeding and throbbing painfully. One in his arm and another in his leg. He was limping the rest of the way and dragging the beast behind him. The sun was high up on the sky and the day was hot and humid. He was right. Vilkas could no longer control his changes. And whenever he turned back into himself, he was unconscious and occasionally yelling out loud, calling out for Sura most of the time. During those periods, J'Ziir was forced to lift him on his shoulders and carry him. But whenever he felt the first muscle spasm, he tossed the man to the ground, secured the chains and backed away. And before the beast was even fully formed, he used his Thu'um and hoped it didn't have time to attack him while he was gagging and his eyes were blurry and his head was dizzy.

Two times he used his Thu'um two early. And that caused him a massive, bleeding wound on his leg. He didn't have any healing potions and their walking speed slowed down, even more, when he couldn't use his injured leg properly. And he cursed his luck when the timing of the next Thu'um was also too early and before he had a chance to defend himself, the creature already sank its teeth into his other arm. He managed to twist his hand out of its mouth and smashed its head with the blunt end of his weapon but now he was barely able to move.

He tripped on a root right outside of the mine. He figured if the effects of the Thu'um would stop right on particular this moment, he couldn't do a damn thing. Not that he cared anymore. The sun made him boil in his armor, the pain caused him to see things in two and he felt how the warm blood pooled into his other boot. There was the familiar red haze again, dancing on the edges of his vision. Oh, how have I missed you, dear friend.

He inhaled deeply and forced himself to his feet. The world swayed underneath him, he felt like he was standing on a boat in the middle of a stormy sea. He leaned against the rocks and the beast watched him, still engulfed in a green haze. He could see how the haze began to dissipate and he knew he had to hurry. He pushed the wooden doors open and pulled the creature after him. He almost stumbled to the three dead bodies that Lydia left near the entrance and cursed out loud.

At least we're out the sun, he thought as they continued down the dark corridor. He glanced behind him and saw the dark patches of blood that followed them. How ironic, he thought. That I might die saving this cursed beast. This creature who only wants to end its own wretched life.

He saw the open cell door in front of him and the key that was hanging from the lock. The last push, he sighed and then he heard the low growling behind his back. He didn't even need to turn to know that the green glow was gone. Very quickly he came to the conclusion that he didn't have the strength to use his Thu'um anymore. The only good thing was the beast was still chained but those chains wouldn't stop it from using its jaws.

Slowly he turned and faced the creature that was towering over him, its eyes as red as the blood that was dripping from its claws. He didn't lower his gaze as he took a few steps back. He had no idea what to do. The corridor was narrow and dark but he didn't need his night vision to see the murderous glow in the wolf's eyes. He reached out for his ax but he had to use his left hand. He dropped the chains to the ground and the beast gnarled, lowered its head bared its teeth.

"We're almost done," J'Ziir said with a low voice. "And now you decide to kill me. How considerate of you. I've been dragging you behind me, carrying you most of the way and this is how you repay me."

His words seemed to confuse it and it shook its head like it wanted to get rid of his calm, rational voice which slithered its way down to its ear and reached that humane part of its brain that was still yelling and trying to gain control.

"So, you do understand," J'Ziir continued when he noticed the reaction his voice had in it. "Then, for your own sake, you better do what I tell you. Or that arm that's still hanging like a dead weight on your body is the first thing to go."

This time the threat of cutting off its arm didn't work. And once again he saw that dangerous need in its eyes. The need to die. The need to plunge itself forward and having him end its life while defending himself.

"No way," J'Ziir shook his head. "Don't even think about it. Now, get into that cell while I'm asking nicely."

For a moment they just stood there, battling it out. J'Ziir knew he was getting weaker and weaker by the minute and that red haze around his vision begun to swallow him whole. And even when the world turned in to a bloody, reddish color, he still stood his ground and didn't back away. And eventually, the beast gave up. He didn't know was it because of the pain, or because it was as tired as he was, but it lowered its gaze, turned and walked to the cell. And before it had a chance to ambush him, J'Ziir slammed the door shut, locked it and tossed the key away. Only then his hand relaxed and the ax fell to the ground. And then the world turned into darkness and he collapsed like a corpse.

_"_ _iir...Ziir...J'Ziir...!"_

A low, husky, tormented voice penetrated the perpetual darkness and carried him back to where he was. He opened his eye and the ceiling swam into his view. Dark, rocky, dusty ceiling. Nothing that required his attention. He only wanted to close his eyes again and sleep for a long, long time.

_"_ _J'Ziir!"_

He managed to turn his head and saw a man on the other side of the iron bars. At first, he didn't recognize him, he looked so thin, covered in dried blood, his eyes were tired and dead, his voice barely a whisper. His other hand was useless, rotting piece of meat and the fingers from his other hand were all gone. The only thing that remained was painful looking, red stubs. He managed to get to his feet but the world was still turning and spinning. A small table was pushed against the rocky wall and he saw a hastily written note attached to it. There was a large, red vial next to it.

_"Drink this, you fool! We'll come as soon as we can!"_

Blessed Lydia, he thought and grabbed the bottles, tore off the caps and gulped them down. When he tossed the bottles aside he felt how his wounds begun to heal and the strength slowly crept back to his body. He leaned against the wall, closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. The pain was fading, the exhaustion was gone and he was starting to see the world in clear colors again. He lifted his gaze and saw the man behind the bars. Something changed. He managed to gain control of the beast. He was squeezing the iron bar with his other hand and he looked at J'Ziir.

"Don't let her come here," Vilkas croaked. "Don't let her see me like this."

J'Ziir didn't answer. He removed his armor and inspected his wounds. They weren't healed completely; the scar tissue was still red and painful. But he felt much better than a few minutes ago. He looked around saw a couple of bottles of mead, grabbed them and tossed the other to Vilkas. He didn't want to go too near, he might be a man now but there was no telling when he would turn again. He opened the bottle and sat down, leaned his head against the wall and sighed.

"What happened?" he asked.

"I...I don't remember everything," Vilkas mumbled. "I don't know how long it has been. Do you?"

"Four weeks since Rifen," J'Ziir answered.

"Just four weeks?" Vilkas closed his eyes. "Can't be.

"Who were those people?" J'Ziir continued.

"The Silver Hand," Vilkas'a head begun to droop. "We...werewolf hunters. They d..did experiments on..on me. Didn't want...to kill me right away. They broke...the line. Crossed it. And now...i..it can come and go...whenever it wants!"

"Drink!" J'Ziir ordered and Vilkas reached for the bottle, opened it and gulped it down. It seemed to help a little and calm him down.

"Li..listen!" Vilkas stared at him. "If...if you have any mercy...then just end it! Don't let Sura come here and see me like this..."

"If I kill you, she will never forgive me," J'Ziir said calmly. "And she will never forgive you either for leaving her."

"And...when she comes and sees what I am...what I have become!" Vilkas wheezed.

"Then we'll find a way," J'Ziir replied.

"Just give up on me," Vilkas lowered his gaze. "You should have killed me when I was asking for it. Why didn't you?"

"You're my brother," J'Ziir finished his mead and tossed the empty bottle aside. "Part of my family. Consider it a curse if you want. But I will never give up on my family."

"You don't know what it's like!" Vilkas yelled. "To be like this, never knowing when this creature will take over me again! To be in constant pain..."

"I know enough," J'Ziir interrupted him. "Trust me, I know. My life consisted of pain for twenty years. I know what it's like to crave after death, beg for it to come and end it all. But I survived all that. And so will you. Even if I have to drag you back from Hircine's hunting grounds, I will not let you slip away so easily."

Vilkas grew silent and leaned his head against the iron bars. "Alright, he finally whispered. "Alright. But promise me one thing."

"What?" J'Ziir knelt down next to him.

"If I hurt her in any way," Vilkas grabbed his arm and his whole body begun to tremble. "You will cut me down without hesitation!"

"No need to ask that of me," J'Ziir nodded. "I'd do that even if she begged me to stop."

"Good," Vilkas swallowed and crawled away. "Good. Then...you better move further. I think the beast wants to be the one who welcomes my wife."


	79. Chapter 79

**79.**

Lydia arrived in Whiterun late in the afternoon. After she cleared Embershard, she made sure once again that the mine was empty, the key to the treasury door was on its place, hanging from the lock where it was easy to see, the only potion she had left on the small table and everything else was as ready as it could be. She left behind water, food, and mead and hoped that it would be sufficient. She had a bad feeling in her stomach but she tried to think positively and strongly believed that Vilkas could be saved. It had taken too long for Sura and Vilkas to be together and it would be devastating to see everything come to an end like this.

She rode to the main gates, left J'Ziir's mare outside and rushed to the city. The guards paid no attention to her, everyone in the city knew who she was. To her eyes, Whiterun was as it had always been. Her home and the bright jewel of Skyrim. She didn't stop to look around and as she ran up the stone stairs sweat glued loose strands of hair to her forehead and armor felt like it weighed a ton. She missed the wooden bathtub that J'Ziir bought and hoped she would be able to use it in the near future.

She swung open the doors to Jorrvaskr and at first glance, nothing was out of place. The big fire pit was lit and the large mead hall was warm and cozy. But there was no one around. An eerie silence greeted her and as she closed the door behind her, she heard the sounds of her own steps, echoing through the hall. She had never seen Jorrvaskr so empty and so dead. Usually, this place was filled with eager people, new recruits who wanted to display their skills, Vignar telling his stories, Torvar strutting around and trying to seduce everything that moved, the usual Circle members, Farkas, Aela, Skjor, sometimes even the Harbinger came to join them all. But now, there was no one.

She called around and even her own voice sounded strange in this place. It was shy like it didn't belong here. After a while, she heard footsteps in the stairs and Farkas's muscular frame emerged from the living quarters.

"Lydia?" he was surprised to see her. It seemed that he had been waiting for someone else. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Sura," Lydia explained. "I need to see her."

"That makes two of us then," Farkas replied and sighed. "Let me know if you find her."

"What do you mean?" Lydia asked.

"It's like she and Aela are both possessed," Farkas grunted. "Running here and there, taking down the Silver Hand, Aela looking for revenge and Sura looking for Vilkas."

"Wait," Lydia grabbed his hand. "What's happened here?"

It didn't take long for him to tell her what was going on in Jorrvaskr. How most of the new recruits were gone and no one really dared to enter this place anymore. How they were practically leaderless now. There were no new contracts coming in, he, Ria and Athis somehow tried to hold this crumbling fort together. How the icy blue in Sura's eye had begun to fade and now she was looking at this world through eyes that were the gold and copper. And how the whiteness in her fur turned to darker grey and how she only spoke with a rough, raspy voice and gave short, cold answers. Through his words, Lydia realized that Farkas was afraid of Sura and he had no idea where she was. She came and went the way she wanted and if someone tried to stop her, one look from those fiery orbs was enough.

Lydia would have liked to know more but the front door opened and they both turned. Lydia knew exactly what Farkas meant when she saw her oldest, her dearest friend. And she also knew who had taken control of this kindhearted, soft, gentle woman.

"Lydia," Sura's eyes flashed when she saw her standing there. But it wasn't Sura who faced Lydia, not at all. Part of her was there, recognized Lydia and was happy that she was here. But that part was tucked safely underneath all this madness. As Sura's faith was fading away, the small glimmer of hope dying, as days marched by her strong-willed mother took the reins and kept her daughter safe.

"You need to come with me," Lydia took her hand and when she pulled away, Lydia knew for sure she was talking to Namada.

"I have too much to do," she replied with a cold, stern voice. "I need to find…"

"Vilkas," Lydia nodded and when she mentioned his name, Sura blinked and her eyes changed their color, from gold to blue and back to gold. Namada wasn't going to allow her child to suffer. If Vilkas was dead, then she would face it first. She would take the first crushing blow and keep Sura safe as long as she could.

"Then you know I can't waste time," Sura walked pass her.

"J'Ziir and I found him," Lydia yanked her back. "He's alive…"

"Found him?" Sura's hands grabbed her and Lydia felt how amazingly strong her grip was. It almost caused bruises to her hands.

"Sura," Lydia tried to calm her down. "You need to listen to me."

"Take me to him! Now!" Sura ordered and shook her. "Take me to him!"

"Calm down!" Lydia pushed her away and when she tried to grab her again, Farkas wrapped his strong arms around her. That caused her to growl and curse and neither of them had ever heard anything like that coming from her. She clawed Farkas and tried to get away but his grip was like iron and he didn't let her go. His arms were bleeding now but he didn't care, his beast blood took care of small, insignificant flesh wounds. It took a long time for her to calm down. She gasped for air and her screams ceased and Lydia finally dared to approach her.

"Sura, can I talk to you now?" Lydia asked. "Namada, I know you are trying to help but you need to let go. Vilkas is alive, he is not dead."

She remained silent for a while like she was considering whether to continue or not. When she finally looked up, her eyes were back to their old blue and the horrible bitterness from her face disappeared. Only sadness, loss and a little glimmer of hope remained.

"Ly…Lydia?" she sobbed.

Farkas finally released her and she rushed to Lydia and the two women held each other for a long time. Lydia felt how her shoulders were trembling and she tried her best comfort her. Neither of them said a word and they stood there, holding onto each other.

"So, you really found him?" Farkas finally asked.

"Yes," Lydia nodded. Sura looked at her and her eyes were huge and desperate. "You both need to come with me. We found him but…things are not…well."

"Where is he?" Sura asked and now her voice was calm but hopeful. "Please, Lydia..."

"Let's go," Lydia nodded. "I'll take you there."

The three of them arrived at Embershard couple of hours later. The sun was already setting behind the mountains, the shadows crept closer and the clouds were colored in the shades of blue and violet. The forest was quiet, only the wind whispered and an eagle cried out somewhere high up in the sky. Lydia jumped down from her horse and Sura looked around.

"Embershard?" Sura asked as she descended. "Why here?"

"J'Ziir told us to come here," Lydia said. "You'll know soon enough why. I think they are both waiting for us."

As soon as they entered the mine, a loud roar came from within the shaft. It caused the narrow tunnel to vibrate and dust rippled down on top of them from the ceiling. Lydia shuddered and prayed for the Divines. If that beast was loose and running around through the mine, they had no chance of taking it down alive. She hoped that J'Ziir managed to lock it up and make sure it didn't break the flimsy door to bits.

They walked ahead and Lydia was relieved to see J'Ziir standing on the other side of the wooden bridge, leaning against the wall and obviously waiting for them. From the first glance he seemed to be alright but soon Lydia noticed the nasty, bloody scars on his arm and on his leg. She wanted to ask him what happened but now was not the time.

"J'Ziir!" Sura rushed to her brother and looked at him with eyes that were nearly green. "Where is he? Where?"

J'Ziir didn't answer but his eyes danced around her face. Then he leaned in and Sura blinked. He reached out, grabbed her part of the Eye and yanked it from her neck. Sura cried out as the necklace snapped and left red marks on her skin.

"I'll take this for now," J'Ziir finally said. "Go away, mother."

"J'Ziir!" Sura rubbed her neck but as soon as he took the necklace from her, its glow began to fade away and Sura shook her head.

She wasn't sure what was happening. All this time she felt so sure of everything, she knew exactly what she was doing. Every decision she made was right and if she questioned it in her mind, a strong voice drowned out her doubts. During the nights she was afraid of losing that strong part of her and becoming the weak-willed, unsure, unworthy creature she had always been. And now she was divided, ripped apart and separated. And for the first time since Vilkas left her in Riften, she saw things clearly. And realized that when she invited her mother in, Namada's will of protecting her drowned out her own.

"Ouch," she mumbled and his arms grabbed her when she swayed back and forth.

"Welcome back, Raji," J'Ziir lifted her chin up. "Permanently, I hope."

"How did you know?" Sura asked. "That it wasn't me..."

"I know you well enough by now," J'Ziir replied. "And I know our mother. How she likes to interfere. She wants to help but this...you have to face it yourself."

"Face what?" Sura looked down at the corridor where those horrifying roars were coming from. "What do I need to face?"

"Your husband," J'Ziir replied and nodded. "It's up to you know whether he lives or dies. Just know this…he begged for death once already. And no matter how much you love him, I know you don't want to see him suffer."

"Suffer?" Sura whispered. "Why would he suffer?"

"Don't close your eyes," J'Ziir said. "He is dying already. He wants it, asked me not to let you see him. He wants you to remember him the way he was."

"Why would I need to remember him when he is here," Sura shook her head.

"He is here for now," J'Ziir forced her to look at him. "But maybe you need to think what's best for him."

"What's best..?"

"Be merciful and let him go," J'Ziir replied.


	80. Chapter 80

**80.**

Nothing could have prepared her for what she saw. J'Ziir could have told her everything, described it in a thousand different ways, explain all the gory details. And still he knew it wouldn't be enough, she had to see this with her own eyes. There were no words strong enough to describe something like this.

Sura walked ahead and her steps were slow, almost reluctant. Her fear mixed with the need to see Vilkas but her brother's words scared her. That she should let him go and remain here by herself. Surely it couldn't be that bad. J'Ziir, Lydia, and Farkas followed her and before she even reached the cell door, she saw the massive shadow moving around, howling, roaring, rattling the iron bars and trying to get out. The door was old but it was sturdy, J'Ziir was almost sure it wouldn't break but he walked next to her, just in case.

Sura stopped and watched. Her own heartbeat was slow and almost cautious. She heard how Lydia sighed and stepped back. J'Ziir didn't move from her side and Farkas stood his ground. She knew they were all there and yet their presence didn't matter at this moment. A thousand thoughts flashed in and out of her head, revenge, love, yearning, longing, pity, sadness, all in a jumbled mess and she couldn't grab any of those emotions.

"That's Vilkas?" she finally asked. "Vilkas?"

She turned to J'Ziir and her eyes begged him to tell her that it wasn't so. That all of this was some misunderstanding, a mistake. That Vilkas was still out there somewhere, alive and well, not this mutilated and tortured creature she was facing.

"It's him," J'Ziir said and felt how his words wounded her. But this was not a time for pity. She couldn't close her eyes anymore and believe that everything was alright. It was cruel and he wanted to protect her, but there were times like these when you have to face things no matter how much it hurts.

"Is it?" Sura stepped ahead and when the wolf lunged at her, J'Ziir grabbed her and pulled her away.

"Don't do that again," he hissed at her.

"It can't be him," Sura shook her head, still wanting to deny this. "He would know me. If it was him, he wouldn't attack me."

"He doesn't know you," J'Ziir said. "He barely knows himself."

"Who did this?" Farkas asked and swallowed. His blood was pumping high and hard in his veins and his eyes were sparkling in the dark tunnel-like molten gold.

"The Silver Hand," J'Ziir said and Farkas stared at him. "From the look of it, you know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Silver Hand," Farkas gnarled. "Because of them, Kodlak and Skjor are dead. And the Companions are falling apart."

"I suggest you calm down," J'Ziir said with a quiet voice which was coated with coldness. "You turn now and you both will die. I don't have time or energy to look after two rampant wild animals."

"J'Ziir," Sura looked at him and he could see she begun to believe it. This horrific truth that she didn't want to face, she began to see it. "What happened?"

"We found him from an old fort," J'Ziir said.

He glanced at Sura. He wasn't sure should he tell her everything and was it necessary. Despite the situation, he still wanted to protect her, spare her. Wasn't it enough that the wolf was here now? Still alive and breathing? She didn't need to know how and what had happened. And if the wolf survived, he could tell her about it later. Although J'Ziir doubted that he would. After all, he had already protested seeing her and asked him to end his life countless times. If Vilkas was strong enough to pull through this, he didn't see a reason why he wanted to visit the most painful memories of his life.

"Never mind," J'Ziir finally said. "He's here now. And we need to decide what to do."

"Save him," Sura said without a doubt. "There's no question about that."

"Save him then, if you can," J'Ziir nodded. "Do you know how?"

Sura's eyes grew dark and she lowered her gaze. She didn't know what to do. And it was strange to be put in charge like this. They were all looking at her in hopes that she would find the answers to their questions. In recent months she had been able to look up to her brother and see him solve most of her problems. He was able and willing. But this was different. Vilkas was her husband. She knew J'Ziir would help if she needed but it was up to her now to find the right answers.

She turned towards the cell and with a heavy heart, she watched the man she loved. Massive wounds all over his body, his eyes dangerously wild and untamed. There was nothing familiar about this creature. No trace of the man he used to be. When then beast stared at her, there was no recognition, not even the smallest hint that it knew what or who she was. His other arm was almost useless, hanging beside his body, rotting and emitting a horrifying smell. She knew he was in pain but getting close to him and helping him in this state would be difficult, life-threatening even. And to save his life, she had to look after herself first. She couldn't just run up to him and embrace him and hope he would remember her. It was painful but she knew she had to face it. Vilkas might never be the same again. He might never turn back and that would mean...

The thought made her heart cry out in pain. But she didn't let any of that pain seep into her eyes. She wished she could be like J'Ziir, cold and unfeeling. Make decisions without guilt or hesitation. And if there came a time when she had to give him up, let him go as J'Ziir said, she wasn't sure could she do it.

"If at some point," Sura whispered to J'Ziir but wasn't able to look at him. "If...I have to give up. If there is nothing more I can do...will you help me then?"

"I'll make it quick," he replied and placed his hand on her shoulder.

She nodded, took a deep breath and decided to close her heart. She needed her brain now, not her emotions. The love she felt for this man just made things more difficult and now she had to use cold logic to find the answers she needed. She opened her eyes and the pain, the tears, and the shock were gone. At that moment her eyes matched the eyes of her brother. She began to look at things in a different light. She watched the beast, saw all of its wounds and realized he might not last long enough for them to find a way. There was no way around it, she had to try and heal him. She noticed a big cut in his other arm, it was bleeding profusely and she could see the bone, a glimpse of white in midst of the blood, severed tendons and injured muscles. She turned to look at J'Ziir and he stared back.

"I had to defend myself," J'Ziir finally explained. "Would you rather see us both dead?"

"Are you hurt?" Sura walked to him and began to inspect his body.

"I'm alright," J'Ziir tried to shake her off but she was relentless.

"Alright?" Sura frowned when she saw the reddish scars on his arms and legs. "You call this alright?"

"I call it better than dead," J'Ziir replied.

"If you are going to help me," Sura cast a strong restoration spell and J'Ziir felt how the dull, throbbing pain began to disappear. "I need you at your best."

"I'm willing," he answered. "If you know what you're doing. But if your plan involves letting that creature out of that cell, then I would definitely like to be at my best. At least that gives me a chance."

"I will never understand how you fight dragons if you are so afraid of werewolves," Sura sighed.

"Wolves are unpredictable," J'Ziir replied.

"And dragons are not?" Sura asked.

"Let's face it," he said. "They are quite boring to fight. They don't know how to hide, they can't ambush you, you hear them long before they even catch a glimpse of you and they do tend to use the same repetitive attacks. Wolves...a whole different story."

"Which I'm not interested to hear now," Sura said.

"Suit yourself," J'Ziir shrugged. "I assume you have a plan."

"He can't control his changes anymore," Sura begun. "But we can't take him anywhere in this state."

"Where would we take him?" Farkas asked.

"Farkas," Sura turned to him. "Explain to me. How do you change? Through sheer will? Do you need the moons? Or is the blood of the beast enough?"

"The blood is in us," Farkas said. "But you need the will to change. If you haven't changed in a long time, it becomes harder to resist. You hear the call."

"When was the last time you changed?" Sura asked.

"It's been a while," Farkas admitted. "Vilkas made a promise to Kodlak that we wouldn't change anymore. But after what happened to you... he kind of broke that promise. And whenever he changed, I changed. But Kodlak was looking for something. I don't much about it. But it's been about...well...weeks since I changed."

"Any ill effects?" Lydia looked at him and Farkas shook his head.

"Kodlak," Sura repeated. " Kodlak...he might have been able to help."

"The man is dead," J'Ziir said. "If you want to save your man and the Companions, I suggest you concentrate on the living."

"Speaking of the Companions," Lydia opened her knapsack. "We found these from the fort as well. I know they belong to you," she handed the fragments of the old weapon to Farkas who didn't seem eager to accept them.

"Me?" Farkas looked at her. "You want me to take them?"

"You are a Companion, aren't you?" Sura reminded him. "It's best you take them to Eorlund. He can probably reforge the weapon. And having it whole and in the hands of the Companions would strengthen Jorrvaskr right now."

J'Ziir glanced at Sura. He was slightly amused at how easily the big, thickheaded Nord accepted her guidance and leadership. He didn't argue, he simply nodded and looked relieved. It was clear that he wasn't a leader. And the " _Harbinger_ " he saw in Raji caused J'Ziir to look at his sister very carefully. Namada was gone but the same unrelenting force remained. A smile rose to his face.

Farkas looked at Vilkas one last time, then he sighed and left the mine. When he was gone, the rest of them remained. The wolf was pacing back and forth in the cell and the sand beneath him was filled with dried blood. Finally, Sura decided she had to try. She took a deep breath and under the watchful eyes of her brother, she stepped forward. As soon as the beast heard her footstep, it stopped its movement and focused its red, bleeding eyes on the person in front of it.

The man inside its head screamed, not out of pain but of fear. The beast understood that this woman was the reason the man wanted to live. This woman was the single, thin thread that still bound its former master to this world. The beast was confused. Its mind was suddenly filled with emotions it was not able to understand. Something almost human reached out and it realized that the woman could help, take some of the pain away. It had lived through pain and its trust to those around it was shattered. Letting her close was dangerous. The wolf was reluctant. In this form, it was better equipped to protect the man and its own body.

"Vilkas," Sura said his name with a calm, tender voice. As the wolf came closer, she didn't retreat. She knew J'Ziir stood right behind her and he was ready to pull her away. But at the moment she didn't feel threatened.

"It's alright," she whispered. Those words were meant for Vilkas, for herself and for J'Ziir, for all of them. And surprisingly they seemed to work. The wolf calmed down and J'Ziir didn't grab her. Even her own beating heart settled down.

She reached out her hand and it slipped easily through the iron bars. When she touched the rough fur of the wolf, her eyes were filled with relief and her heart was overflowing with love and tenderness. All this was hers. And it was now safe. The man and the wolf. They were both here, finally. After so many weeks, after so many empty, lonely nights when the nightmares crept too close and the hope was fading and eluding her. When she was sure that she would have to live the rest of her life alone. She allowed a gentle stream of peace and healing run through her hand. It wasn't the strongest spell she had but she didn't want to scare or agitate the wolf. She could clearly see it didn't trust her but for now, it allowed her to touch and help it. She moved her hand to it's the broken, injured arm and as she begun to heal it, she realized that no matter what she did, that arm would never be complete again. Whether it belonged to the wolf or to the man.

"I'm here now," Sura said with a low voice and the wolf listened. "We are once again on the same path. I won't leave you behind."

She stood there for a while, doing the best she could and then she backed away. She sensed that the wolf was getting restless and whatever she did wouldn't help with the inner chaos and the utter confusion it was feeling. She had no idea what those people had done to him and she was feeling powerless for not knowing how to help.

"Do the best you can," J'Ziir said and she found his words warm and comforting. Like he knew what she was going through.

"I'm going back to Whiterun," Sura finally decided. She didn't like leaving Vilkas behind but just standing here, watching him wasn't going to help. "I need to find a solution to this."

"And if there is no solution?" J'Ziir asked.

"There is," Sura's eyes were defiant.

"If there isn't?" J'Ziir didn't give up. "You can't just rely on fool's hope, Raji."

"Hope is all I have left now," Sura sighed and then reached out her hand. "Can I have the Eye back? I'll make sure mother stays away from now on."

"You sure?" J'Ziir asked.

Sura nodded. J'Ziir hesitated but eventually placed the necklace on her palm. She smiled but didn't put it back on her neck. Instead, she tucked it inside her pocket. She needed to have a clear head for whatever was going to happen and she didn't want to risk her mother getting involved again. She knew Namada only wanted to protect and help her but it was the time that she faced her own problems.

"What do you need me to do?" J'Ziir looked at her.

"Can you stay here for now?" Sura lowered her gaze. "And look after him? I know you must have many other things to do but..."

"I'll stay," J'Ziir promised. "Lydia will go with you."

"Just...don't kill him, alright," Sura touched his hand.

"I dragged him here from the other side of Skyrim," J'Ziir glanced at the wolf which was now much calmer than before. But he could see something in its eyes he didn't like. "I'll make sure he stays alive for as long you need."

"Thank you," Sura said and her smile was tired. "Be careful."

"Don't worry," J'Ziir said. "As I said, he will still be here when you get back."

"I know," Sura nodded. "But I'd like you to be here as well. Be careful of him. Vilkas is a good man but the wolf...is not as kind."

"I've noticed," J'Ziir replied and watched as the creature moved inside the cage. Its eyes were now fixated on him. Red, evil glare followed his every move.

"If you need to," Sura didn't look at him. "Defend yourself. I healed him and I healed you. For him to stay alive and for you to protect yourself. Just...don't kill him, alright."

"Just go," J'Ziir assured her. "We will both be here when you get back."

"Promise?" Sura glanced at him.

"We'll be alive," J'Ziir nodded. "I can promise you that much."


	81. Chapter 81

**81.**

The night was closing in but Sura didn't feel tired. She couldn't waste any more time. She didn't have that opportunity and her need to save Vilkas, at least try her best, pushed her brains to find solutions and fast. At first, she sent Lydia to Dragonsreach. Farengar was the court wizard and he knew more of magic and spells that she could learn in her whole lifetime. Lydia frowned, she didn't much care for the grumpy old man, but Sura was determined and so Lydia agreed and headed towards the Reach. She didn't think that Farengar had any knowledge of werewolves since most people in Skyrim seemed to believe they existed only in scary stories to frighten stubborn children. But Lydia knew that Sura wanted to try every possible way so she didn't argue for long. They parted their ways beneath the blooming Gildergreen.

Sura glanced at the tree. The cold wind rustled in the branches. Few rose-colored leaves fell to her feet. She picked one of them on her hand. It was like a small miracle. Holding something that had been dead for such a long time. She looked up and felt hopeful watching the tree and its strong, thick branches. If Gildergreen was able to survive, able to bloom again like this, she wanted to believe that Vilkas was not beyond salvation. She headed to the old mead hall while still holding the vibrant leaf in her hand. As she opened the door and walked to the huge mead hall, she wondered where she should start. She believed that Jorrvaskr and the knowledge this place held would help her and give her the answers she needed. But Kodlak was the one who everyone always went for answers. And now Kodlak was gone. She glanced towards Vignar's room but he mostly knew old stories and took hours and hours to tell them. No - it was either Kodlak or no one.

But going downstairs to his room, snooping around like a thief felt wrong. She had no right to be there, she wasn't even part of the Companions. But if she wanted to find solutions, to find a way to save Vilkas, then she had no choice but to go and search for answers. Even if everyone in Jorrvaskr disapproved. Even if they threw her out, she would find a way back and keep looking until she knew what she had to do. She hoped they would understand.

But before she could make her move, the door opened and Farkas stepped inside. He didn't notice her and he walked towards the staircase that led downstairs. He stopped at the top and seemed hesitant to go on. He grunted and turned around, took a few steps like he wanted to walk back outside, then he stopped again, sighed and headed towards the stairs again. He went downstairs and Sura heard how he opened the door. But he didn't close it behind him. And he didn't move. He just stood there, like a statue. Silently she went after him and saw him standing in the doorway. His forehead was covered in deep frowns and Sura had never seen him so lost in his thoughts.

"Farkas?" Sura said and he looked up at her, his face filled with relief.

"Sura," Farkas walked up to her and cleared his throat.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"No," Farkas shook his head. "Eorlund asked me to get Kodlak's piece. To reforge Wuuthrad."

"So, go get it," Sura said. "He needs it, right."

"I can't go to his room," Farkas looked at her and his eyes were troubled.

"Why not?" Sura sighed.

"I couldn't protect him when the Silver Hand attacked," he replied and was clearly ashamed to admit it. "Going there now and go through his things...it doesn't feel right. And I haven't done anything afterward to keep the Companions together. It was always his first priority, to look after all of us."

"He knows you tried your best," Sura comforted him. "Eorlund needs the fragment."

"I know," he nodded and looked at her, his eyes pleading. "Could you get it for him?"

"Me?" Sura plinked. She had just looked for a way to go into Kodlak's room and search for help and now Farkas was literally giving her his approval. "Are you sure? You know I'm not part of the Companions and Kodlak's room is..."

"You are Vilkas's wife," Farkas said. "Like I said, that's good enough for me."

"Yes, to you maybe," Sura argued. "But not everyone here thinks the same."

"Does it matter right now?" Farkas asked. "Vilkas is dying, Aela is still going after the Silver Hand, what's left of them after the destruction you've done, and the only other Circle member remaining is me."

"If I go down there," Sura said after a long silence. "Will you let me look for something that might help me save Vilkas? Kodlak must have had answers but because he isn't here anymore I can't ask him."

"Go and look," Farkas replied. "When you find the fragment, hand it to me and keep looking as long as you need. You resemble him, you know. Kodlak. Always looking for a way and not giving up. If it was up to me, I'd have let him go by now."

"I can't let him go," Sura said. "I barely just found him."

Farkas didn't argue but Sura saw something in his eyes. He wondered was it worth all this. To let Vilkas live in such a pain and suffering while she looked for something, a way to cure him that might not even exist. "I'll wait here. Just call out to me if you need help."

Sura nodded, turned and headed downstairs. The long hallway was empty and quiet but it was brightly lit and she wasn't afraid or nervous. She didn't hesitate when she walked to the end of the hallway and opened the large wooden door to Kodlak's room. She didn't expect to see his ghost or spirit but she did feel something when she entered the room. A warm sense of approval, like she was welcomed here in a peculiar, strange way. She knew of magic and held strong powers within her fingertips but she hadn't expected such a welcome in a place where magic was scorned and seen as inferior to swords and shields and the raw power of steel.

There were lots of books on the shelves but she wanted to find the fragment first. If she got that out the way she could concentrate on looking for something that would help Vilkas. She looked around but didn't really know where to start. The fragment was important to the Companions so Kodlak must have kept it somewhere safe and secure and she doubted she would find it from this room. She glanced at the other door which led to Kodlak's private quarters. What kind of a welcome would she get if she entered there? She turned away from the door and quickly searched the shelves and tables but like she guessed, there was no trace of Kodlak's fragment. Eventually, she realized she would have to enter Kodlak's private room. She walked to the door and suspected that it was locked. But when she turned the handle, the large wooden door creaked open. The light from the first room crept in the revealed a large bed, couple more shelves, and a small table tucked in the corner. The empty room felt dead and abandoned. So quiet and lonely. It represented the whole of Jorrvaskr, and how this place died with Kodlak. Sura could almost see the grief and sadness that circled the room, the emptiness and the need to have him back. Not just because of Vilkas, but because of the Companions. He was bound to them and they needed him, this place needed him and she felt how outrageous and unfair it was for him to leave them all like this.

Why, Kodlak? she asked when she entered the room. Why not stay and help? Why leave all this to Farkas, who doesn't know much and doesn't understand. Who doesn't want to lead? A strange feeling surrounded her, like something in the room tried to answer her questions. That it wasn't Farkas who was meant to lead, it wasn't Farkas who pulled Jorrvaskr back from the brink. It wasn't Farkas who was here now, searching for a way to save Vilkas.

She shook her head and spun around. The feeling remained but it wasn't as strong anymore. What was this? And why did she suddenly feel so cold? Like something heavy and unwanted was placed on her small frame, something that she would not be able to carry. She raised her hands to her cheeks and slapped them, pinched them and was finally able to think more clearly. She left the door wide open and the light from the other room begun to fill this empty, dark space. She didn't really need the light, she could see perfectly well without it but it comforted her and chased the coldness away.

She looked through the bookcases and the tables but found very little. Was there really nothing that could help her? She refused to believe that, refused to just turn around and walk away from this. She knew that every moment she lingered and spent here meant more suffering and pain for Vilkas, but letting him go without even trying was too hard to accept. She gripped the bedpost, closed her eyes and forced her aching heart to calm down. It was slowly starting to betray her, she heard how it began to whisper the words J'Ziir had already said to her.

_"Be merciful and let him go."_

That would be the kindest thing to do. For him. Be merciful. Be kind. Be loving. But while Vilkas begged for death, did he knew what kind of pain he was causing her? To think that she would have to stay here, all alone and live without him. She knew she was being selfish for wanting to keep him...just for a little while longer. Just give me a little more time, she asked. She wasn't sure how long she stood there, but when she opened her eyes, she noticed the small table next to the bed, tucked in the corner and covered in shadows. It had two drawers and the upper one was slightly ajar. She released the grip from the bed, walked to the drawer and opened it.

At least you are helping me this much, she sighed when she saw the fragment of Wuuthrad, placed on top of a leather journal. She reached out her hand and picked the piece on her hand. It was warm, almost hot to the touch and she felt the power that rushed through it. She was about to turn around and take the fragment to Farkas when he saw her own name on top of the old journal that was placed in the drawer.

_Zahraji._

Not Sura. Not the name they all used in Whiterun, the name they used even now. Zahraji was the name only J'Ziir knew and used and he often shortened it to simple Raji. The same cold feeling returned and she wanted to run out of the room and leave that book where it lay. She knew it offered answers, but in return, it wanted something from her, something that she didn't want to give. And it was all mixed up with the answers, the demands. But running was not an option. She tried to run from the Orc and was finally forced to face it. She tried to run from her painful past and eventually it caught up with her. If she ran now, she would lose the most important thing in her life. So she sat on the edge of the bed, placed the fragment next to her and took the journal from the drawer. She felt like it burned her hands, she was afraid to open it and see what it contained. But at the same time, she wanted to rush through it, read it quickly, get it all over and see the answers and the demands.

But as she opened the first page, she realized there was no way of rushing through this. No matter how badly she wanted to save Vilkas, she would have to calm her heart down and go through this carefully. There were answers, oh yes. She thanked the Divines for those. But the demands that she faced were far beyond her, things she didn't want to read, understand or accept. She realized this would be the price of saving Vilkas. Not just save her husband but also the dead Harbinger of the Companions.

When she finally closed the journal, she knew what she had to do. She knew what Kodlak expected of her but that would be for later. And it was not just for her to decide but for all of them. She knew they respected his words and his wishes but this might be too hard for them to understand. She took the fragment of Wuuthrad, Kodlak's journal and left the Harbinger's room. When she closed the door behind her, she hoped she wouldn't need to step into that room ever again. But if Kodlak knew what would happen to Vilkas, surely he knew that the Circle members listened and respected his words. It's an exchange, she understood. Kodlak once saved her life when she was a little girl. And now it was her turn - to save Vilkas, save Kodlak's spirit and save the Companions. It all felt unreal and unfair and she almost reached out for the Eye. It would have been so easy just to slip the necklace on, let her mother take over and watch from the sidelines how she handled things. No, she shook her head. If I'm not strong enough to fight for him on my own, I don't deserve him at all. She walked to the bedroom which she now called home, where she had lived all these lonely weeks by herself. She took the Eye and placed it inside a small jar on the table.

"I'll leave you here for now," she whispered. "You know why."

She left the room without looking back and the faint glow on the necklace faded. Her part of the Eye began to ready itself. It wouldn't take long now before it was needed. And with all the power it had spent helping Sura, it wasn't sure was there enough for the final confrontation.


	82. Chapter 82

**82.**

Lydia was waiting for her in the mead hall with Farkas. They talked in low, quiet voices and when she came upstairs, they looked at her, both hoping she would have better news than either of them. Lydia returned from Dragonsreach with nothing. She knew the court wizard wouldn't welcome her with open arms and his knowledge of werewolves was nonexistent. That or he didn't want to share his information but Lydia doubted that. Farengar rolled his eyes when she mentioned werewolves as if nothing could interest him less.

Sura handed the fragment of Wuuthrad to Farkas. She was still holding Kodlak's journal in her other hand. She knew what she had to do and where to go and she didn't need to read it again. She remembered everything down to a little detail, her head was still spinning and she felt uneasy. But she wouldn't be able to hide what had happened and there was no reason for it. After some thought, she handed the journal to Farkas.

"Give the fragment to Eorlund," she told him. "And while he reforges the weapon, read this."

"Kodlak's journal?" Farkas recognized the book as she handed it to him.

"When Wuuthrad is ready, head back to Embershard," Sura continued. "If you find Aela, take her with you. If not...well, then it can't be helped. But she needs to know. This would be a lot easier if she was here. You have to take Vilkas to Ysgramor's tomb, far up north."

"Ysgramor's tomb?" Farkas' mouth dropped open. "A...are you serious?"

"Wuuthrad opens the way to the heart of the tomb," Sura explained. She was calm now and explained things patiently, like describing something very difficult to a little child. "When you get there, make your way to the inner chamber and wait for us."

"Us?" Lydia glanced at Sura. "We're not going with them?"

"No, you and I need to go somewhere else first," Sura said to her friend. Then she once again turned towards Farkas. "Can you do that?"

"Yes, but I don't know how this helps," Farkas nodded. He received clear orders and it was easy for him to follow them. Finally, he felt like he was in his right place. Following someone and knowing what to do. It felt very familiar and good. And he hoped that things would remain like this from now on.

"I know you have questions, but Kodlak's journal will explain everything," Sura said. It was easier to have Farkas read the book. It would sound too ridiculous and selfish for her to say it out loud anyway. Also, it would give both her and Farkas - and Aela if she decided to show up - time to consider what this all meant.

"Where are we going?" Lydia asked.

"Before we leave, I assume that Farengar didn't tell you anything," Sura asked her and as Lydia shook her head, she nodded. "Yes, I didn't think so."

"Then why sent me there in first place?" Lydia sighed.

"He's been the court wizard for ages now," Sura said and her smile was sarcastic and a bit too cold. "There's no way he's lived here all this time without knowing the truth. He knows but I guess dragons are his true love. Not werewolves."

"Alright," Lydia admitted. "Makes sense. Where are we going if you sent Farkas to Embershard?"

"Do you know of a place called Glenmoril Coven?" Sura asked her.

"I've heard of it," Farkas suddenly said. "Kodlak mentioned it a couple of times."

"I'm not surprised," Sura replied. "That's where we need to go. For Vilkas...and for Kodlak."

"Do you know where it is? Because I've never heard of it," Lydia glanced at her.

"I know," Sura nodded and then she turned to Farkas. "Do you remember what you need to do?"

"Wuuthrad, Embershard and Ysgramor's tomb," Farkas repeated.

"One more thing," Sura told him. "Before you leave, take lots of healing potions with you. You might need them along the way."

When Farkas nodded, Sura turned to Lydia and grabbed her arm. "Let's go. We have a long way ahead of us."

Lydia held her tongue long enough for them to leave the city. But as soon as they were crossing the planes of Whiterun, she asked Sura to explain what was happening. At first, she didn't answer and Lydia suspected that once again her mother had taken control and was running things her own way. But she noticed her necklace was missing and her eyes were filled with worry.

"Sura," Lydia began. "I want to help you, just talk to me. If I don't know what's going on..."

"Right now, all you need to know is that we have to get to Glenmoril Coven, kill the witches and then head to Ysgramor's tomb," Sura replied. "The rest...is too complicated for me to explain right now. I don't even know what to think myself."

"The witches?" Lydia asked.

"Kodlak's spirit needs to be purified," Sura mumbled.

"Aren't we doing this for Vilkas?" Lydia was confused.

"It ties in with that," Sura admitted. "The curse needs to be broken. The wolf and the man have to be separated and the wolf needs to die. That might be the only way to get Vilkas back."

"Might be? So, we can't be sure if this works?" Lydia asked.

"No," Sura shook her head. "But I have to try."

"How long till we get there?" Lydia decided to wait for the rest. Things were in motion and poking around and asking questions would only make Sura more distressed. She was already on the edge and even though Lydia didn't know what she discovered from Jorrvaskr, there was a small glimmer of hope in her eyes that she didn't want to suffocate. She could wait, after all, she was used to it by now. Getting any kind of answers from J'Ziir always required careful timing and lots of patience. By now she was a master of timing and patience.

"Maybe a day," Sura finally answered. "It's quite far down south. We have to pass Falkreath and head towards Markath. Kodlak explained where it is."

Few more questions popped into Lydia's head, like "how can someone who is dead and gone tell you such things?". And why was it that Kodlak needed to be purified? And if we kill the wolf, how will Vilkas survive? Weren't those two bound to each other, almost too tightly to be broken apart? But the main thing that worried her was something she didn't dare to say out loud. If the wolf was to die and Vilkas was to live, would the wolf accept its demise peacefully?

J'Ziir had already mentioned that Vilkas sought after death, that he wanted to end it all. But that was Vilkas. His wolf was different and what little she understood, the wolf wanted to fight for its existence. And if it realized at some point that they were planning for its death in order to save the man who had controlled it all these years, wouldn't that cause massive troubles? Like the creature escaping and running from them? Killing anyone who crossed its path?

"I know what you're thinking," Sura suddenly glanced at her.

"Do you?" Lydia looked at her.

"I have a hunch," she smiled. "Yes, this will be difficult. Especially if Farkas and J'Ziir run into trouble. Then it will be a thousand times more complicated."

"Why didn't you go with them?" Lydia asked. "With you there, he might be calmer. He knows that you want to help him."

"I don't want to help the wolf," Sura said and her voice was cold. "I want to kill it. Be rid of it. If I go there, it will understand it. It will sense it. It's better for me to be as far away from it as possible, at least for now."

Lydia didn't argue and they continued their journey in silence. She glanced up at the sky and realized that it was almost dawn. She could see the first rays of the sun on the horizon and the snow covered mountains begun to glow and bask in its warm rays. Seeing the sun and feel its light made Lydia feel hopeful. After the dark days that passed, they all needed some light in their lives. And wherever this road would take them, whatever they encountered, she trusted that small glimmer of hope that sparkled somewhere deep down in Sura's eyes.

It was strange, she suddenly realized. That she was following Sura and listening to her words exactly the same way she followed and listened to J'Ziir. She didn't understand when and how her childhood friend had turned into a leader. What was that moment? She almost giggled when she remembered how Farkas listened to her and never once argued against her. And she gave orders like she was born to do so. Patiently and more gently than J'Ziir, but with clear and demanding voice.

"You know," Lydia suddenly started. "Now that Kodlak is gone, you would make a great Harbinger. They seem to listen to you at Jorrvaskr. Even the ice-brain himself follows your guidance."

Sura flinched at her words. She swallowed hard and that uneasy knot in her belly rose to her throat. She glanced at Lydia who smiled as she had just thought up something very hilarious and very brilliant at the same time.  _Oh, Lydia,_ Sura thought to herself and a cold fist of fear in her chest gripped her heart once again.  _If you only knew...if you only knew the last words that Kodlak left to me. Then you wouldn't say it so casually. Then you wouldn't say it at all, because you wouldn't be able to believe it._


	83. Chapter 83

**83.**

The dawn was still far away when Farkas and Aela arrived at the Embershard Mine. Farkas was carrying the Wuuthrad on his back and he felt strange, honored and even a little scared to hold such a legendary weapon. Eorlund wasted no time getting to work and while he remade the old, massive ax, Farkas read Kodlak's journal. With every word, he began to realize how Kodlak had secured Jorrvaskr's future and pulled the Companions back from the brink, even after his death.

Before Eorlund was ready, Farkas spotted Aela beneath the Gildergreen, heading back to Jorrvaskr. She'd been gone for days and Farkas had no idea where she went and what she still hoped to find. Sura had all but destroyed the rest of the Silver Hand but Aela's need for revenge was still unsatisfied. And despite the fact that she denied her affection towards Skjor, it was very obvious why she did all this.

Skjor and Aela had been the two Circle members who truly embraced the curse, as Kodlak called it. For a long time now Vilkas talked about being free of the wolf and Farkas always followed his brother. He didn't really have an opinion, he was a strong man with or without his wolf. He didn't mind its presence but he wouldn't be terribly disappointed if the curse was broken. The only thing he really missed these days was proper rest. His dreams were often too vivid for him and even when he was completely spent, three women sharing his bed at the same time, the dreams came and when he woke up, he felt restless and alert. He didn't exactly remember what it was like sleeping for a long time, diving under that dark blue cover of nothingness, pull the silence over him like a thick wolf pelt and sink into darkness.

As soon as he saw Aela, he ran down the stone stairs and stopped her at the entrance. Quickly he explained things to her and her green eyes flashed. He didn't know the reason, but he hoped it wasn't because of anger. Sura and Aela had exchanged some harsh words in the past but if Kodlak's wishes came true - and he was sure they would - Aela might be having a hard time accepting it all.

"Ysgramor's tomb, you said?" Aela asked her, amazed.

He heard respect in her low voice. There was a doubtful look in her eyes and she seemed tired. She wasn't really sure of her own position in Jorrvaskr these days when everything was turned upside down and the people she loved and cared for died so suddenly. She wasn't prepared to lose half her family so quickly. And the pain that came afterward, she didn't know how to handle it. So she used violence and isolation, she never cried and the only time she allowed the grief to the surface, was in the forests, in the mountains, under the pale moons when she could do nothing else but to howl her endless longing.

"We know where it is," Farkas told her and passed Kodlak's journal to her. "You need to read this in order to understand."

"So what are we waiting for?" Aela asked and was ready to leave immediately. She pushed the journal aside, refused to look at it. She didn't need words, didn't need to understand. It would be difficult to realize her mistakes, apologize and accept another truth.

"Eorlund is not ready yet," Farkas forced her to take her journal. "Read it."

A few hours later Eorlund entered the Skyforge carrying the old, massive ax in his hands. By then Aela already finished Kodlak's journal and she wasn't sure what she should think about it. She remembered Sura's words, of how she claimed she loved the Companions but showed little respect and little effort to keep them together.  _Yes_ , she should have done more, she admitted now. But when Skjor left, it was like losing the night sky, with all the stars and the moons and light of the Auroras that shined when they ran through the forest. And with Kodlak gone, even the earth where she planted her roots began to crumble. And the only one left by her side was Farkas, the icy wind from the sea that wasn't strong enough to tie it all together. No, they needed Vilkas, the strong knowledge and the logic that knew the right answers and showed them where to go next. They needed their alpha.

She stirred as Eorlund walked inside and upon seeing the old weapon in his hands, reforged and powerful, she began to hope that they could reclaim their glory. She thought it would be hard to accept Kodlak's wishes, but he had chosen the right pair to lead them forward. The alpha and his white saber-tooth who had already proven more than capable. Aela knew she would eventually have to come terms with it and began to prepare herself.

On the way to Embershard, they exchanged their thoughts and finally came to the same conclusion. They wanted to save the Companions but they had done little or nothing to help. The only one who fought, who kept them afloat was a tiny Khajiit, who was a mage and didn't belong in the Companions. But at least she tried and their future was now in her hands. They decided that when this whole ordeal was over, they would declare their own wishes and it would be unanimous with Kodlak's wishes. After all, neither of them wanted to lead.

They entered the mine and immediately something felt strange. Not just the silence but the smell. Aela glanced at Farkas, there was an alarmed look in her eyes. Then they heard it. The steps of the alpha. Not confined in his cage anymore. It wasn't hurrying, it walked slowly. It was determined. Sure of itself. Like it knew where it was going and no one was standing on its way anymore.

The smell of fresh blood crept inside them and they both sensed how their alpha called out to them. Farkas realized it was calling out its siblings and tried to lure them to its side. It was something he had never felt before, like the wolf inside him wanted to turn and betray its human counterpart. For as long as Farkas remembered, he and his wolf lived side by side, and neither tried to rule over the other. He knew when the wolf called and the wolf realized when it was time to rest. He looked at Aela and saw the same fear in her eyes. It was something they couldn't escape.

The alpha appeared in front of them. Wounded, but powerful. Commanding, demanding, and using its massive girth to threaten them. They saw how fresh blood dripped from its jaws and how its yellow, sparkling eyes stared at them, observed them. Were they his enemy or his brothers and sisters? It opened its jaws and roared at them. And an answer vibrated inside them, Farkas felt how his heart begun to beat faster, how his blood flowed and the familiar, hypnotizing pain started to creep over him. He knew it wouldn't take long before his sides begun to burn before his ribs cracked and his body was filled with the need to hunt. He always followed his brother, shouldn't do that now as well?

"Farkas, no!" Aela grabbed his arm. Her eyes were glowing dangerously but she was still resisting.

Farkas shook his head and understood what she meant. If they turned now, they would follow Vilkas wherever he led them. And then they would turn their backs to Jorrvaskr, to Kodlak, home, and to their family. To everything they respected and loved. The alpha sensed their unwillingness. It knew these two, recognized them as part of its pack. But all the suffering, the bloodshed, endless hours of torture and pain blurred its vision and made it only see enemies in front of it. Deep down it sensed the end of its life, and some part of it embraced it and accepted it. But like any animal, it fought to survive.

Farkas and Aela both understood that the alpha prepared to attack. They were clueless as of what to do. Never before had they faced a situation quite like this. They couldn't kill it, but they couldn't let it have its way either. What would happen, neither of them knew but they were determined to hold their ground.

And suddenly everything in their world turned upside down. A strong gust of wind grabbed them all and mashed them against the stone walls. The sound that followed was like thunder. Not high up in the clouds but right next to their ears and it drowned out everything in its wake. Farkas was sure his ribs were broken and dozen other bones in his body as well and he was barely able to dodge a huge boulder that dropped down from the ceiling. Getting his head crushed was not how he planned to die.

After a while, everything went quiet. Only the dust lingered, the sound of pebbles dropping from the ceiling, the creaking wooden beams above their heads. He heard Aela's moans and alpha's heavy breath and then another sound crept into his foggy mind. Footsteps, light and calm and familiar.

"I told you," cold, quiet voice said. "You and I stay tucked here like two lovers that can't bear to be separated. Were you really trying to run off without me?"

Farkas groaned, opened his eyes and managed to get up on all fours. He had to shake his head to get the ringing out of his ears and when he was able to focus his vision again, he saw the Dragonborn standing in front of him.

The black-furred Khajiit looked horrible, almost unrecognizable. His armor was bloody, his arms were nothing but gaping wounds, slashes, bites and cuts all over. His eyes were tired, he was barely holding himself up. He had a thick iron chain in his hands. He was breathing heavily, but he never shirked or backed away. His hands worked fast but the chain slipped a dozen times and his fingers refused to work. Eventually, he tied up the beast that was now laying among the rubble, still frozen and unable to move from the full blast he had just delivered to it.

He secured the wolf, then he fell to the ground and threw up. He was a bloody mess and Farkas realized in an instant why Sura told him to bring lots of health potions. He just hoped that the impact against the hard stone wall didn't shatter the bottles. He crawled up to his feet and unloaded all the vials he grabbed before he left Jorrvaskr. As fast as he could, he took them to J'Ziir. The Khajiit's arms were trembling, his breathing was shallow and he had lost a lot of blood. Almost violently Farkas yanked his head up and then forced him to swallow the content of the first three bottles.

When he began to show signs of recovery, Farkas turned to Aela and helped her up to her feet. Her other arm was bruised and she had some scrapes and burns but nothing too serious. They turned to look at J'Ziir and the alpha that still lay in the ground. It was no longer dazed and confused. Farkas saw a crafty, mean look in its eyes and he realized that getting from here to Ysgramor's tomb was far from easy.

"What happened here?" Aela finally opened her mouth. She was still panting and recovering from the hard smash against the stone wall.

"We are just bonding as brothers," J'Ziir answered with a dry voice and emptied another vial. He was finally able to get on to his feet and he felt how the deep gashes in his arms slowly closed up. His hands settled down and the intense trembling ceased. "Like you saw this little guy doesn't want to cooperate with me."

"Little guy?" Farkas glanced at the giant wolf that snarled back at him.

"Not a big surprise," J'Ziir grinned. "I guess you two were caught in the blast as well. I tried to hold back a bit, but who knows with these shouts. They're not easy to aim. But thank you for distracting him."

"We're fine," Aela waved her hand. "But we need to get moving before the dawn. Are you able to walk?"

"Yes," J'Ziir frowned. "As long as you tell me where and why."

"We might be able to save him," Farkas explained. "Sura ordered us to come and take him to Ysgramor's tomb. She gave us instructions there and told us to hurry. She and Lydia will be heading there as well."

"Ordered? Told you?" J'Ziir stared at him. "How interesting. Since when did you begin to follow her orders?"

"Ever since Kodlak..."

"Farkas, now is not the time," Aela interrupted him. "Let's just grab him and go. It's almost dawn and we can't be seen out in the open like this."

"You're right," Farkas nodded and turned to J'Ziir. "But we need your help, brother."

"Brother?" J'Ziir cocked his eyebrow. "And here I thought there was room for only one insane werewolf in my family tree."

He sighed and noticed that neither of those two wanted to get close to the tied up alpha male, but handling this beast was nothing new to him. He dragged this creature from the other side of Skyrim and now he apparently had to drag him for the rest of way as well.

"Get up!" he grabbed the iron chains and pulled the snarling wolf on its feet. When it tried to lunge at him, he grabbed his ax and sliced it mangled torso. The pain was sharp and agonizing and the wolf jumped back.

"We need him alive!" Aela scolded him.

"He's still breathing, isn't he?" J'Ziir shrugged. "And as long as he's breathing, he's alive. For all I care, he can be a bloody, beaten mess when we get there. It's his choice will he arrive there with all his bones broken, his tail cut, his claws ripped out and limbs torn off. In that case, we'll have to carry it but at least it won't be trashing like a mad bull."

The wolf drew back and whimpered. Chained up and tired it knew this man was capable of hurting it and doing all the things he said. Its enemy was ruthless and pain began to be too familiar now. Its will to live started to diminish. It had dreamed to run into the wild, into the darkness of the forest and lick its wounds there until it was no longer hurting, no more suffocating. But now it wished for it to end. It lowered its head and drew its tail between its legs.

"Your choice, brother," J'Ziir whispered.

_"My choice",_ it growled softly.  _Let this be the end,_ the man trapped inside wished. As they left the abandoned mine, Aela led them towards the north. The wolf walked obediently in front of J'Ziir and when it turned to look at him, he stared into its eyes.

"You're choice," he whispered.


	84. Chapter 84

**84.**

It was the strangest thing. Once again she knew exactly what to do. Like the road was lit before her eyes, shining clearly in the moonlight. The knowledge didn't come from Kodlak or from her father's diary – not quite. He whispered it to her, thought time and space and she heard his words like he was right next to her, guiding her down a safe path. The thought comforted her because she had no idea was she actually able to do this. And why her father suddenly decided it was best to interfere. She was settled and ready for what was to come. And she knew the only way of saving Vilkas was to kill the wolf and break its hold.

_"_ _No,"_ his father's calm words came to her. " _You don't need to kill it. You just need to keep it safe and guard it until he understands. Calm it down."_

But Kodlak's wish…

" _Everyone has an opinion. His words are not the law. Vilkas respects him – yes, but does he truly understand how long he has lived with his wolf. Does he understand what it means to be without it? If you destroy it now, he might regret it later."_

Ever since they left Glenmoril Coven, this constant battle raged inside her head. She only wanted to save her husband. And the most logical way was to kill the wolf spirit and be rid of it. But her father insisted it wasn't the right path. There was another way, complicated, dangerous and very uncertain but if she could muster enough courage and understanding, it was possible.

_"_ _There is a place where you can hide it. Remember the garden?"_

Throughout this strange journey, Lydia had kept her eyes on Sura. She was buried deep in her thoughts and Lydia couldn't coax much out from her silent companion. They were riding along the coastline, heading towards an old Nordic tomb where – she hoped – the rest of their friends were waiting. Glenmoril Coven was filled with creatures she wished she would never have to encounter again. She could cope with Frostbites, they were easy to see and rather easy to kill. But hagravens with their claws and fireballs and their creepy cackling and screeching made her skin crawl. When they finally emerged out of the old cave she thanked the Gods above it was over.

The wind sped up and cold prickled her face and made her frown. Skyrim was her home and she loved this land but there were places she didn't much care for. Like the Northern coast where the winter never ceased, where the wind always hollowed and the snow covered the land throughout the year. She was much happier in the mild planes of Whiterun where she could actually see the sun through the clouds and even feel its warmth on her face. She glanced at the sack hanging from Sura's saddle. It was moist, dripping with black blood and she swallowed. She didn't know why they needed the head of those creatures but seeing Sura stuff them calmly in one of the old sacks gave her goosebumps. It was like she was buying groceries. Some carrots? Yes, please. A couple of cabbages and maybe some potatoes? Oh, I definitely need those. Few of these old, ugly witch heads which will surely rot and smell before we even make it to our destination? Why not? But she knew well enough not to ask anything. Sura wouldn't tell her until she was ready. Lydia only hoped it wouldn't cause more troubles for her dear friend, she has surely been through enough.

"We're here," Sura said and Lydia looked ahead. She saw the shapes coming into view, the familiar mound made out of rock and ice with giant pillars rising above it. In the gloomy afternoon light, it looked ominous and uninviting. A place where they definitely shouldn't enter. A place which you would normally skirt around. And still – it was the place they were headed. A place where a great many things would be decided. Sura jumped off her horse, untied the sack from her saddle and looked at Lydia. She was quiet for a long time and then she said: "When we are in there, you have to keep J'Ziir out of my way."

"What?" Lydia frowned.

"He won't accept it," Sura said. "What I'm going to do."

"If he won't accept it, isn't that a clear indication that you shouldn't do whatever you are planning?" Lydia shook her head. "And if he doesn't accept it, what makes you think I will?"

"Maybe you don't," Sura nodded. "I still need you to keep him out."

Lydia didn't want to make any such promises. She of all people knew what J'Ziir bursts of anger were like. And the last thing she wanted was that one of the fits of rage was directed at her. She wanted to refuse, she would never promise anything like that, but Sura turned and began to pull the sack behind her. She clambered up the steep stone wall, took a deep breath, swiped her forehead and continued. Eventually, Lydia gave in, ran after her and helped her carry it to the top. As they reached the edge of the tomb, they saw the doors leading inside were open.

"They made it," Sura sighed. "I hope they had a chance to clear out the place. We need to get into the main chamber."

Hundreds of questions flew inside Lydia's head. Why here? What main chamber? What was going to happen there? Why do you need to keep J'Ziir out?  _What are you going to do?_  But she didn't voice out any of them, because Sura wouldn't answer. She tried before, on their way from Glenmoril to here. Sura only smiled to her, a sad, tired smile which twisted her heart and made her regret ever asking anything. It seemed like she was about to do something horrible, something that would seal her fate forever. Silently they walked down the stone steps and as they got to the main entrance, a dismal, weary scene greeted them. Aela and Farkas, both exhausted and leaning against the huge statue of Ysgramor, spatters of blood coated the stone floor, broken weapons lying around and the place itself covered in a deadly silence.

"What happened here?" Lydia whispered. She was afraid to talk out loud. Entering this place caused chills to run down her spine and if not for Sura and for J'Ziir, she would have turned around and left without a second look back. But her duty as a housecarl forced her to act. She stared at the two Companions, not sure where they dead or alive. Aela was bleeding but her chest was moving. Lydia dropped her knapsack and rushed to her side, grabbed a large healing potion and forced it down her throat. When the redheaded woman began to come around, she moved ahead and shook Farkas. He moaned and Lydia sighed.

Sura stared and swallowed. She was torn between two things. Another side of her, the selfish side that only wanted to save Vilkas, urged to her rush ahead. But the practical, caring side overwhelmed her and she realized that right now her first priority was to save these two, no matter how worried or how anxious she was. She dropped the sack on the floor and knelt next to Farkas. She nodded to Lydia, who once again turned to Aela. Sura took a deep breath, placed her hands against Farkas' chest and released a powerful healing spell. The whole room was filled with golden light and Farkas coughed underneath her touch. It didn't take long for him to open up his eyes and when he saw her, he smiled. That smile almost brought tears to her eyes; it was so familiar, so warm. So trusting. That she would make it all better somehow. And it was that trust towards her that made her forget all the rush and hurry and pain. This mattered most now. Without Aela and Farkas, there would be no Companions. Skjor was gone, Kodlak was gone. Vilkas was...

"You made it," Farkas muttered. Sura kept the spell going until he was able to get on his feet. She didn't say anything because the guilt gripped her heart. All of this was her fault. Sending them here, she should have known better. Why had Kodlak placed all this on her shoulders? She knew nothing, less than nothing. And now her actions almost caused the deaths of Aela and Farkas as well. She would ruin them all, do a better job than all the Silver Hand combined.

"We need to hurry," Aela held her head and tried to find her balance. "To the main chamber. They are waiting for us there."

"Can you walk?" Lydia asked.

"We're alright," Farkas nodded. "Let's just go."

Sura tried to ignore the guilty feeling that kept nagging at her, telling her that she should do better, know better, and be better. Somehow she should have foreseen all this and do her best to prevent it. She bent down and grabbed the sack but suddenly it felt too heavy for her. Not just the sack, this whole situation and where it was leading to. She tried to hide everything so well but Farkas saw through her. He walked next to her, took the sack and tossed it on his shoulder. Then he smiled again, that same smile that always lighted Vilkas's face when he was pleased, amused or just plain happy.

"Don't blame yourself," Farkas said and those words were so unlike him that a momentary confusion blinded her. Suddenly it wasn't Farkas who stood before her. It was Vilkas. In his calm, reassuring way he told her that everything was going to be alright. She would pull through this and they would see each other again.

They entered the burial chamber through a small, secret door that was open. Two wooden staircases led to a large area that was lit by candles, torches and glowing blue centerpiece in the middle of a large tomb. The silence greeted them and Sura began to worry for J'Ziir. Aela said that J'Ziir told them to stay out. That meant that he chose to stay behind. With Vilkas. Who was very unstable, unpredictable and very, very dangerous. She didn't dare to shout or call out for him. She didn't see either of them but what she did see was the glowing blue figure of a man, standing next to the fire pit, warming his hands and waiting for them. Sura never thought she would see him again and a massive wave of relief washed over her. Kodlak was here…and he knew what to do.

She almost rushed ahead but then a small voice, a whimper, a silent sigh stopped her. She turned and saw her brother. He was leaning against the stone wall, next to the giant, iron cage. His hand was pressed tightly against his stomach and he was slumped in a giant pool of blood, his head lulling back and forth. At first, she couldn't move. She was so utterly surprised to see him like this. Her strong, powerful brother, mangled and wounded, near death, pale as a ghost, rapidly fading away.

And then she jumped to action. She ran, clambered, climbed and clawed her way to his side. Her hands were trembling when she pushed them against his stomach. It was sickening to see his dark blood soak into her fur but she didn't care. She only wanted to see his eyes and hear his voice. She released a spell, more desperate and powerful than any she used before and they both bathed in a glowing light as Lydia reached them. J'Ziir groaned and opened his eyes. And what Sura saw in them frightened her. That same relief and trust she had seen in Farkas' eyes.  _No_ , she thought.  _Don't put so much faith in me_.

"That's enough," J'Ziir nodded and took her hands into his. "I'm alright. It's him you need to worry about," he gestured to the cage behind him.

Only now she noticed another figure behind J'Ziir. Locked inside the big cage, lying motionless on the stone floor. She lunged forward and rattled the iron bars. Her heart sank when she saw no movement, nothing whatsoever.  _We're too late!_ a voice inside her head screamed.  _I'm too late! He's gone…he left me behind…how could he...he...he promised..._

"He's alive, but you need to hurry," J'Ziir wheezed. He was still injured and the deep wound in his stomach was throbbing with pain. But once again, he was pulled back from death. But this time he was grateful. There was much he still had to do.

"Yes," Sura closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Kodlak…he knows what to do."

She stood up and Lydia knelt next to J'Ziir. She opened her knapsack and found one more health potion which she handed to him. As he glanced at her, she glared at him with angry eyes. You should know better, she silently nagged to him. He took the bottle and averted his gaze. As Sura walked back down, Farkas and Aela followed her. They all recognized Kodlak and every one of them was eager to hear what he had to say. What advice he would still give them, how would he pull them back from the brink?

"Greetings," Kodlak said as they stood around him in a small circle. His voice was smooth and deep, and it echoed around them, calmed them and comforted them.

"Kodlak?" Aela sighed and her voice trembled. "Is that really you?"

"Of course," the old man said and smiled to her. "My fellow Harbingers and I have been warming ourselves here. Trying to evade Hircine."

"But there's nobody else here," Farkas glanced around.

"You see only me because your heart knows me as the Companions leader," he replied patiently. "I'd wager old Vignar could see half a dozen of my predecessors. And I see them all. The ones in Sovngarde, the ones trapped with me, in Hircine's realm."

He paused and turned his gaze from Aela and Farkas to Sura: "And they all see you, child. You've brought honor to the name of the Companions. We won't soon forget it."

"Kodlak, no!" Sura backed away. "Please, no! Don't do this! Just tell me how to save Vilkas and he'll be…"

"It was not Vilkas who kept everything together when Skjor was taken, and when my time came," Kodlak said. "When Aela hunted after her own demons and Farkas was overwhelmed by everything that happened. It was you, child."

Aela and Farkas looked at her and she wasn't sure what she saw in their eyes. But neither of them denied Kodlak's words. It was almost like they were ashamed to admit it. Whatever it was, she wasn't about to argue it right here and now. "How can I save Vilkas? And cure you?"

"You brought the witches' heads? Then we can only hope this works," Kodlak said and there was a hint of amused disbelief in his voice. "Throw one of them into the fire. It will release their magic, for me at least."

"What will happen?" Sura asked.

"In order to cure me, you need to kill the spirit," Kodlak explained.

She reached out for the bloody sack and noticed that her hands were shaking. She closed her eyes and squeezed them tightly together. Then she looked up at the ledge. J'Ziir was about to get on his feet. Lydia saw her, their eyes met and she nodded. Then she placed her hands on J'Ziir shoulders and pressed him back down. Sura pushed her doubts aside, pulled one the rotting heads out the sack and tossed it into the flames.


	85. Chapter 85

**85.**

The spirit of the wolf, the dominant old alpha of the pack, separated itself from Kodlak's ghost. It was glowing red, angry and fighting for its life. For years it had lived side by side with this man. Their mutual existence was calm and they both accepted each other. Until the moment when Kodlak wished to enter Sovngarde. And his wolf spirit kept him here and pulled him to the hunting grounds of Hircine. It had been years since Aela and Farkas had seen the old alpha, but the mere sight of the beast caused them to retreat. It demanded respect, it's authority over them was overwhelming. They both realized that Sura was now standing there all by herself and facing the creature alone but they couldn't help it. The alpha intended to face its foe without distractions.

As it emerged and revealed itself, Sura was mesmerized. The nervousness was gone, so was the doubt. Suddenly she was that little girl again, the one who couldn't remember anything. Who was so lost and scared, afraid of everything. And then this creature came along, drove away the gleaming, glowing eyes of the dark forest that followed her every step. It guided her to safety. Seeing it after so many years simply left her in awe. It seemed that the old alpha recognized her as well. Its first instinct was not to attack but approach her, study her and learn her. Find out what she was about to do. It was nothing if not careful now. It was vulnerable, being torn apart from its other half. As it came closer, Sura wanted to lift her hand and touch its fur like she had done all those years ago. The beast towered over her and she felt the mutual recognition, an understanding that began between her and the wolf. A single line stretched and connected them together.

Sura hadn't known something like this would happen. She had asked Lydia to keep J'Ziir out of her way but that was meant for later. But no matter how hard Lydia tried to hold J'Ziir back, the wounded Khajiit was a warrior and his need to protect the only living family member he had overpowered his pain and weakness. As J'Ziir pushed his housecarl aside and leaped off the ledge, Sura saw his figure and acted more out of desperation than anything else. J'Ziir was tossed aside by a gust of frozen wind and the Thu'um he was about to release died in his throat. Aela and Farkas were also thrown across the burial chamber and they landed far on the other side of the room. J'Ziir's back hit the crumbling stone wall and he shook his head to see what was happening. He half expected to see a giant with a pack of mammoths storming around, but instead, he only saw his tiny, little sister.

"I'm sorry," Sura mouthed and then she reached out her hands like she was about to embrace the giant creature that stood in front of her, its aura glowing blood red and a menacing grin on its face.

J'Ziir realized he wasn't fast enough. He only saw what happened and he couldn't understand the reasons behind it. He refused to believe it. Sura leaned forward, the wolf turned to face her and then it lunged at her. She held out her arms and welcomed it. In a blinding flash of light, Sura summoned a spell she never used before, didn't even know she had in her. But it came to her when she summoned it. She bound the alpha and reeled it in. She merged them together in a way no one had never done and when the red, glowing creature entered her, she screamed out of pain and terror. The sound echoed through the chamber and down the halls and turned J'Ziir's blood to ice.

It lasted only for a few seconds and then she slumped to the floor. Her breathing came and went in short, shallow gasps and her body was shaking and twisting. It tried hard to accommodate something that didn't belong in there. Her heart was beating too fast and blood gushed in her ears. She heard scratching and crackling. It felt like the wolf broke her bones and clawed her insides to make more room for itself. The world swam into view in the colors of red and black and she bent over, crawled into a tiny little ball and tried to calm herself and the raving creature inside her.

J'Ziir ran to her and pulled her into his arms. He lulled her back and forth and whispered soothing words to her but her body was cold, rigid and in pain. "What in Oblivion did you do? What were you thinking?"

Sura bit her lip and couldn't answer. A thin line of blood dripped down her chin and J'Ziir wiped it away. She was freezing despite the hot burning agony inside her. J'Ziir wrapped his arms around her and picked her up. "We need to leave."

"N…no!" Sura finally managed to mumble. "C..ca…can't!"

"I don't care what this is about!" J'Ziir argued. "We're going!"

"No!" she yelled. Giving up now, leaving now, when Vilkas still laid there dying, only made her determined to keep going. With a spell that pushed him away with force, she pried his arms away and fell back to the floor.

"Raji…"

"It's done!" Sura screamed at him through the haze. "There's nothing you can do to change it anymore!"

At this point, Aela and Farkas decided it was best not to interfere. Neither of them really knew what was going on. But they both felt the same thing. The old alpha. Not in Kodlak anymore…but in Sura now. Inside her. Not fighting against her, not trying to kill her and be free but trying to mold into her. Change its nature so that it would be more compatible. Stronger now than ever before.

"I couldn't…kill it," Sura whispered and looked at Kodlak's spirit. "It saved me back then."

"Child," Kodlak sighed with sorrow in his eyes. "Do you know what you have submitted yourself to? Do you even understand? Your pity has led you to rescue something that is simply a curse, nothing more."

"But…you are free now," Sura muttered. Slowly, very slowly, the pain began to subside. It was easier to breathe now. Her hands were now less shaky and the frightening coldness began to dissipate.

"I am," Kodlak said but there was no joy in his voice. "I don't know can I go in peace, child. Knowing that I have only passed this sorrow onto you."

"I chose it, willingly," Sura confronted his gaze. "Do not feel sorry for me."

"You are stronger than any of us," Kodlak nodded. "That is why you can bear this burden. Save your beloved, child. Then return to Jorrvaskr. And lead the Companions to further glory."

"Kodlak…no, I…you don't understand!" Sura yelled but the spirit of the old Harbinger was rapidly fading and soon it was gone altogether. They stood there, in silence. Farkas and Aela glanced at each other and Lydia finally joined them as well.

"So," Aela began. "You lead the Companions now."

"If you want to fight me," Sura looked at her. "We can do that later."

"You have strength and honor," Aela admitted. "It is apparent to us all. I have no intentions of challenging you."

"For now, that's good enough," Sura sighed. "J'Ziir. Open the cage, please."

The Dragonborn didn't move. He stood there, eyes flaming, ears drawn back and fuming with rage. He was angry to Raji for doing what she did, to Lydia for trying to hold him back, to those two morons for allowing this to happen at all and even to Kodlak for his foolish dying wish. He was determined not to let this go on any longer. Vilkas could die for all he cared. The wolf's life wasn't worth this much trouble.

"Please," Sura said and now her voice wasn't as kind anymore.

"If you think I'm going to stand here and do nothing, you're wrong!" J'Ziir gnarled at her. "What you just did…I'm won't allow something like that to happen again."

"I'm not asking your permission," Sura stated. "Open the gate. Now."

"And if I don't?" J'Ziir stared back just as stubbornly.

"Fine," Sura turned her back and walked towards the iron bars. Her hand was now covered with ice and if need be, she would just freeze the lock until it was cold enough to break. "Just stay out of my way then."

"Raji, you're going too far!" J'Ziir shouted.

"Not far enough," Sura claimed. When she reached the cage, her eyes softened. Vilkas was still there, in the same position. Still human. Sura sighed of relief. This would be much easier if he stayed in his human form and unconscious the whole time. Fighting the wolf while tearing their souls apart would be extremely dangerous and unpredictable.

"Just stop this," J'Ziir grabbed her arm. "It's not worth it."

"How do you know?" Sura pried her hand away. "You've never loved anyone."

"I love you!" he looked at her. "And I can't let you do this! I can't let you die for him!"

"I won't die," Sura replied and her voice was steady and warm. "I won't."

"You don't know that," J'Ziir shook his head.

"I know it," Sura whispered. "To die now would be such a waste. And I won't let my life or his go to waste anymore."

J'Ziir knew he was forced to let her go. He didn't want to and it hurt, it cut deeper than anything he'd done before. Eventually, he released her arm and stepped away. He pulled out they rusty key and handed it to her.

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Do you want us to go?" he asked. He was surprised to realize that he would leave if she asked him to despite his gut feeling that told him, urged him to stay.

"It would be for the best," Sura said. "Can you just help me to…carry him over there?"

With a long sigh, J'Ziir did what she asked. He picked up his brother-in-law and carried the thin, malnourished man to the center of the chamber. Then he looked at his sister one last time and left. Aela and Farkas looked at her and as Sura nodded, they followed him outside. Lydia was the last to leave and before she walked away, Sura hugged her and whispered her thanks. Lydia smiled but it wasn't a happy smile. Then she was gone too and Sura was left alone.


	86. Chapter 86

**86.**

She wasn't as nervous this time around. She knew what she had to do. She wasn't nervous, no. But she was afraid. This alpha would be younger, scared and frightened. This alpha was confused and didn't know who was an enemy and who was a friend. This alpha was hurt and in pain. Suffering. Tortured. Driven out of its mind. Before she began, she inspected herself. She didn't have any wounds and the pain inside her was now simply a mild ache that she could easily live with. She rubbed her hands together and then she knelt next to Vilkas. She caressed his forehead and placed a small kiss on his cheek.

"Don't worry," she whispered to him. "Everything will be alright."

_Don't delay any longer_ , she told herself. She stood up and grabbed another, bloody head from the sack that was lying on the stone floor.  _I'm ready, come at me!_ she yelled in her mind as the tossed the head to the fire. A putrid smell filled the burial chamber. As soon as the flames consumed the head, burned it, Vilkas's body began to twitch and turn and a terrifying scream came from his mouth. It was pure pain, agony, and torment. He was literally ripped in half as his human soul was separated from the wolf.

And then it emerged. Almost too blinding to see, glowing bright red, gnarling and snapping its jaw, it lunged forward, trying to bite her, to rip her apart. Sura dashed out the way and made sure she was out of its reach. It seemed to lose interest in her when she was further away. Its fake attack was probably a defense mechanism. She allowed herself some time to think. Vilkas's wolf spirit was dazed and disoriented. After she was out of its way, it paced and back and forth and attacked the ghosts it thought it saw around it. It was in miserable shape and she felt remorse and compassion towards it. She was ashamed that she initially wanted to kill it. She had only thought of Vilkas, she hadn't considered that the wolf was an entirely separate creature. Bound the man yet independent when it was in its own form. Watching it she actually smiled a little, like a mother watching her baby, a curious, wacky, little cub rushing back and forth, trying everything, failing and trying again. It wasn't so much its behavior that caused her to feel this way. It was more about how it looked and the pity the felt towards it. The red glow around it didn't fade but it got stronger with each spurt and Sura began to worry. If there was no way of saving it…did it really want to die? Did she really have to kill it?

Suddenly something stirred inside her. The feeling made her skin tingle and her whole body shivered. She didn't understand what compelled her to step forward, right in the line of sight of the ferocious beast. It saw her and to charged towards her. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, made no attempt to shield herself. And something tremendous rose from within her, something that stopped the raging animal dead on its tracks. As she opened her eyes, the young alpha stood before her, its head slumping, its tail down, whimpering like a pup robbed from its mother. The blinding redness was gone and now it was covered in cooler shades of blue. Sura moved closer and realized she wasn't walking alone. Somewhere behind her, towering over her, was the spirit of the old alpha. It stepped in and declared its dominance. She heard its heavy steps behind her but didn't dare to turn and look. Instead, she reached out her hand and touched gently the harshly treated wolf spirit in front of her.

"It's alright," Sura whispered. She saw its ears twitch and believed it not only heard her but understood as well. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Sura glanced at Vilkas. He didn't move and she wasn't sure how he was doing. She knew Vilkas didn't like his wolf and probably wanted to be rid of it. And that had been her first solution to this problem as well. Kill the wolf and set Vilkas free. But seeing it here now, so lonely and lost, abandoned and forgotten, made her feel very sorry. ( _Aw, I think it's just lonely…_ ) After all, this wasn't its fault either. The wolf was a warrior but also the last line of defense. When the man couldn't protect himself anymore, the wolf stepped forward and fought for both of them.

She made her decision knowing full well that he might hate her for it later. But killing the creature that kept Vilkas alive during this time was not right. Because he  _was_  alive. Hurt and tortured, yes. Wounded badly, yes. Losing his other arm, most likely. But alive. And that was what mattered. So she welcomed the wolf with open arms. She bound it gently, embraced it with her spell, used the last drop of her healing powers to ease its pain while she led it down to the safe corners of her inner garden. She hoped that inside that tranquil place the wolf would heal, calm down and find its true purpose again.

This time it didn't hurt. She wasn't molding the creature to her soul and to her body; she was simply guarding it against its own hate and distress. The spell wrapped around them shielded them in the bright light. And as the light began to fade, she fell to her knees, tired but overjoyed. She didn't know what would happen now. There was an old alpha molded into her and she had no idea how it would change her. But she was also the guardian of another spirit, like a vessel filled with healing herbs and calming lullabies.

The fire in the stone pit dimmed and snuffled out and Sura sighed. The exhaustion grew but she lifted her eyes and searched for Vilkas. It was very quiet now, she heard nothing except her own breathing. She got on her fours and crawled to him. His face was pale and thin, she could feel his ribs poking underneath her hands. Dried blood covered his tattered shirt and there were numerous minor wounds and cuts on his body. His hand was ruined but it wasn't bleeding. She hoped he could learn to live with it. Accept what had happened and move on. It would take time but she strongly believed that together they could overcome anything. She touched his arm and a gentle spell healed the infected flesh and sealed the wound the best it could. His breathing calmed and the painful expression on his face slowly vanished. He was sleeping now, peaceful and serene. He wasn't hurting nor in pain but Sura kept her spell going for as long as she could.

"J'Ziir," she eventually called out. Her voice was strained, quiet and chocked. He ran to her, she heard him coming long before he was at her side. It was comforting to know she wasn't here alone. That someone would come when she needed help. This was as far as she was able to go. She had done the best she could, no more, no less. It was up to Vilkas now. To come to the rest of the way to meet her.

She was wrapped in a warm embrace. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Farkas carrying his brother. She turned her head and looked at J'Ziir. There was no anger in his eyes. Concern and relief, maybe. She smiled at him, telling him that everything was alright. She wasn't hurt or in pain, just really tired. He eventually smiled back, leaned closer and kissed her forehead.

"You stupid girl," he muttered. "I'll never let you do something like this again!"

"I don't think I want to repeat this ever again," she chuckled. She wanted to close her eyes and bury herself inside his warmth, use his thick, black fur as her cover and sleep.

"Rest now, Raji," J'Ziir whispered. "I'll take care of you."

"I know," Sura yawned. "I know you will. Oh, I forgot to tell you."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me later," J'Ziir shook his head. "It's not important now."

"Yes, it is," Sura smiled. Her voice was quiet now and he had to tilt his head to be able to hear her words. "I love you too."


	87. Chapter 87

**87.**

_It was the second time she visited the garden. But now things had changed. Her knowledge or her parents were different. Her view of them was more realistic than before. And the house was not as it used to be. There was no beautiful memory of her childhood left. The house was gone, burned down. Destroyed. Now she saw it as it was. Old, charred remains of a home, rotten beams, and a crumbling chimney. She didn't understand why she was here again. But as she saw her parents, the suppressed feelings of longing and grief once again pushed to the surface, the injustice that was done upon them. She realized she missed them so very much. This time she didn't run. She was with them already, hugging them, embracing them with all the love she had in her. It was comforting and it being here gave her hope. All was not lost._

_"_ _Sweetheart," Namada caressed her cheek. "When your father told me you were bringing a wolf here, I expected only one. Not two."_

_"_ _Believe me, I had no idea of this either," Jo'Azirr glanced at his wife._

_"_ _You don't say," Namada rolled her eyes. "As if you are not the one who foresees the future."_

_"_ _I don't see everything," Jo'Azirr replied. "There are details that even I miss, love."_

_"_ _Well, the fact remains, there are now two wolves instead of one," Namada said. "And the younger is quite unstable. Unhappy to be caged again, I might say."_

_"_ _That's an understatement," Jo'Azirr sighed. "I'm not sure how to handle this."_

_"_ _Is it safe here?" Sura asked." And how long can I keep it here?"_

_"_ _It's relatively safe," Jo'Azirr replied. "But I can't answer your question, dear. That depends on so many things. J'Ziir's actions will determine how long this place – and us – exists."_

_"_ _J'Ziir?" Sura asked." What will he do?"_

_"_ _It's not really about what he will do," Jo'Azirr tried to explain. " But the things he will ignore. Things he takes for granted now. Like…Lydia. Our fate is bound to her."_

_"_ _To Lydia? I don't understand," Sura shook her head._

_"_ _For now it's enough if you remember what I told you last time," Jo'Azirr smiled. "Do you?"_

_"_ _You told me many things, father," Sura replied._

_"_ _I'm afraid I did," Jo'Azirr laughed._

_"_ _Stop confusing her," Namada glared at her husband. "And tell her what she needs to know."_

_"_ _Return to us," Jo'Azirr finally repeated. " Do you remember?"_

_"_ _I don't know what that means," Sura sighed. "Explain it."_

_"_ _It's a spell that you need to find and learn," Jo'Azirr replied. "It's hidden away. With it, you'll find another dangerous, unstable spell that I created a long time ago. It was a mistake, I should have never gone down that path. When you find it, you need to destroy it, if you can. Don't fall for it, it can be very persuasive."_

_"_ _How can a spell be persuasive?" Sura asked._

_"_ _It bends people's minds," Jo'Azirr explained. "Against their will. Against everything, they believe and hold dear. With it, one can control and twist the minds of countless men. The spell itself is corrupted and draws people towards it. I was barely able to hide it away. Destroy it, so it will never fall into the wrong hands."_

_"_ _What is the other spell?" Sura asked. "And why do I need to find it?"_

_"_ _Long time ago...I stumbled upon it. I realized what it was meant for and when someone asked me to use it, I understood that no one should have such power. We are all free to choose our destinies. Like you just did, earlier today. When you chose to save them all, instead of ending their lives."_

_"_ _Where are these spells?" Sura looked into his eyes._

_"_ _There is a place in the College of Winterhold," Jo'Azirr said. "Underneath the building, where people rarely go. They are somewhere there, away from prying eyes. You must keep looking. The Eye will guide you. Always trust the Eye. It will not let you down."_

_"_ _Do I need to go and get them now?" Sura asked surprised._

_"_ _No, my dear," Jo'Azirr shook his head."We still have time. Now…enjoy what you have accomplished. Learn about your new role. Find happiness with your husband again. And then, when your brother needs you, you know where to go and what to look for."_

* * *

Coming back to reality was hard but she eventually opened her eyes. At first, she saw the familiar wooden boards on the ceiling and slowly understood where she was. This was Jorrvaskr. Kodlak's room. His bed.  _She was sleeping on his bed._  The dream faded as she jumped out of it, feeling like an intruder in a stranger's home. As her feet hit the floor dizziness overwhelmed her and she fell down to her knees. The world swirled around and around and then she was able to breathe again. She grabbed the sheets and pulled herself up. Only know she noticed she wasn't alone. Vilkas laid there, his head slightly turned to his left, eyes closed and sleeping soundly. Sura sat on the edge, reached out her hand and caressed his cheek. She felt the rough stubble underneath her fingertips and his lips were dry and cracked. His hair had grown and it now reached down to his shoulders, tangled, dirty dark brown mess. She leaned in closer and listened. He was breathing, only sleeping. Not dead. Not dead. She grabbed the blanket and pulled it over him, tucked him in.

She got out of the bed a found a clean set of clothes in one of the chairs. She glanced herself at the mirror, saw her eyes, huge and round like wild animals. She didn't know was it night or day but she had slept enough for now. It was time to see what was happening. She left the bedroom, looked around in the study and walked down the hallway. No one was around and she continued to the door that led upstairs. Only then she began to hear voices, laughter, talking, yelling. Sounds of human life. Sounds of normal life. She stood there in the staircase for a long time just listening but not really hearing what they were talking about. Just knowing they were there was enough for her. She had been alone for far too long.

As she emerged from the stairs, the talking ceased and everyone turned to look at her. Suddenly a cold wave of uncertainty ran over her. What was I thinking? she thought to herself. Of course…I don't belong here. Why would I? Why would they welcome me now, an outsider? And a mage on top of all that. Before she could do what she absolutely wanted, which was turn around and run away, Farkas stood up and walked up to her. He smiled, wrapped his arm around her shoulders and led her to the table. Aela was on her other side and she pulled out a chair. She sat down and glanced at the others. Ria was smiling, Torvar was practically grinning. Nadja rolled her eyes but said nothing and Athis was his quiet old self. Vignar cleared his throat and gulped down a pint of ale. Not a single word of dissent. No one disagreed or told her to leave.

"To our new Harbinger!" Farkas declared and mugs rose all around. "Let us remember Kodlak and Skjor and honor their memory. But let us also look forward to a bright new future."

"Wow, ice-brain," Aela muttered. "Didn't expect something so poetic from you."

"I practiced it a lot," he smirked. "Now, let's drink!"

The rowdy bunch sitting around the huge fire pit didn't stay quiet for long and soon everyone was talking, laughing, eating and drinking again. She took a couple of bites herself but she wasn't that hungry. She didn't know what to expect after all this and when Aela softly nudged her, she realized that this was where it began. Her new life, her new role. She found it kind of ridiculous, that someone would actually seek advice from her. Especially when she knew next to nothing about Jorrvaskr and how things were run there. They stood up and she followed Aela outside to the training yard. Skyforge was empty, the sun was setting, and the sky was colored in the dark shades of blue and purple. Does she want me to say something? Sura wondered as they walked. What can I say? That I didn't ask for this position, that Kodlak pushed it on me...

"Harbinger," Aela finally began. "Sounds strange, doesn't it?"

"You don't have to tell me," Sura laughed nervously. "Maybe you shouldn't call me that."

"Why?" Aela asked. "Because I might not like it. I might not approve of it."

"That too," Sura nodded. "And...it doesn't sound right."

"I don't disapprove you being the Harbinger," Aela said and her voice was kind. "I never had any hostility towards you. In fact, I admire the way you pulled us together. How you did everything you could when so many others would have taken an easier path. Myself included."

"Things have not been exactly friendly between us," Sura reminded her.

"I know," Aela admitted. "I owe much of it. I'm sorry about that. I was not very considerate before. Skjor's death hit me hard and all I could see was my own need for revenge. Which brings me to another thing…"

"Yes?" Sura asked since it seemed difficult for her to continue.

"I have always embraced this gift," the huntress stated. "Skjor and I were always the ones who loved the hunting grounds. Kodlak saw it as a curse...and Vilkas and Farkas followed his lead. Well, Vilkas did and Farkas just goes with the flow."

"Aela," Sura calmed her down. "If you are worried that I'm about to set some rules here of how things should run from now on, that's not going to happen. Didn't Kodlak say it himself once? Each to his own. He felt the need to be free. That was his choice. And you are already free in your own way. I'm not going to interfere with any of that."

"Really?" Aela looked at her, surprised. "And what of you?"

"What about me?" Sura raised her eyebrows.

"You saved Kodlak's wolf spirit," Aela pointed out. "I can sense it inside you. Do you know what it means when you turn? What it's like?"

"What makes you think I'll turn?" Sura asked. "It doesn't necessarily mean that, does it?"

"Look, my friend," Aela took her hands. "You are part of the pack now. You were born into it. Differently, than the rest of us, I admit, but you are...a wolf now as well."

"I don't have time to think about that now," Sura pulled her hands away. This topic made her nervous.

"You don't think about it," Aela told her. "It calls to you and it happens. You even learn to yearn for it."

"I'll deal with that when the time comes then," Sura assured her. "Don't worry about me."

Aela sighed. It was obvious that Sura didn't understand the need, the calling, and the hunger behind the wolf. It had not sunk in yet, the burden but also the pleasure it brought. She personally enjoyed it but she knew better. Not everyone was like that. Their Harbinger was young and inexperienced with a spirit of an old, mature alpha. It began to change ever since it entered her body. Aela didn't know what to expect, what would emerge when her time came. But she hoped it happened somewhere far away from Whiterun. And if she could see the signs, she would do her best to help her.

"Now, was there anything else you'd like to talk about?" Sura finally asked.

"Yes," Aela said. "The Circle is crippled. There are only two of us now, Farkas and I…and well…now you. Vilkas is still unconscious and we don't know about his mental state when he wakes up. I suggest we start thinking about new members."

"I'll leave that to you and Farkas then," Sura said. "I have no idea who would be most qualified. You can't expect me to decide it!"

"We'll talk about it and let you know what we think," Aela suggested. "Is that alright?"

"Sounds good to me," Sura admitted.

They finished their talk and headed back inside. Farkas met them at the door and informed Sura that her brother was here. The Dragonborn was waiting for her downstairs, in her quarters. She just had a long, complicated talk with Aela and now she had to face J'Ziir who undoubtedly would berate her with harsh words. She inhaled deeply and wished she could just go back to being plain old Sura, apprentice to Farengar and to Eorlund, the little nobody who remembered nothing and wanted even less.


	88. Chapter 88

**88.**

J'Ziir was lounging on one of the comfortable chairs, his feet up on the table and eating a piece of apple pie when she arrived. He licked his fingers, took another piece and shoved it into his mouth. He noticed her and gestured towards the other chair. Then he pushed the empty plate towards her. Sura didn't know did he want her to clean it or fill it with more pie.

"Harbinger," he grinned when he was finally able to talk.

"Dragonborn," Sura replied and tossed a small napkin on his face.

"Ouch!" J'Ziir winced. "That hurt. It seems you don't like your titles either."

"Especially when I don't deserve them," Sura pointed out. "Want something to drink?"

"Ale," J'Ziir dug his teeth with one of his claws. "Who would you have chosen?"

"Someone else," Sura said. "There's a bottle on the table. Someone with more experience. With more knowledge. Someone who knows how to fight, who knows how to hold a sword and shoot an arrow. Someone who represents the Companions better than me."

"You're right," J'Ziir grabbed a bottle and opened it with his teeth. "Someone like that drunk upstairs who only brags about how many women he's had. Or the silent Dunmer who doesn't know how to talk. Or…I know! How about that stuck-up, frigid Nord woman, who always seems like she stepped on a big pile of dragon shit? No? Well, then there is the Ice-Brain who only knows how to follow orders, the huntress who loves to run in the woods and kill whoever crosses her path or the still unconscious hero who doesn't know what's happened and probably prefers it that way. Am I missing someone?"

"Yeah," Sura nodded. "The one who smiles a lot and is really cute and friendly. Ria."

"Right, the invisible one," his eyebrows waggled. "An excellent choice."

"What's your point?" Sura asked.

"Do you think the old man wanted to see any of them as his successor?" J'Ziir looked at her as he searched for another pie. Sura shook her head and tossed the pie next to her right on his lap. He dug his teeth into it and continued: "He knew things like our father. Maybe he could foresee what would happen if you were not here."

"But I never asked this!" Sura frowned as the crumbles fell from his mouth to the floor. "Stop eating! That's not why you are here."

"I never asked for my burdens either," J'Ziir shrugged. "But here I am. A cat with a soul of a dragon. And a thief who's supposedly good enough to be the leader of the sewer gang of Riften. I have to live with them, don't I? Besides, I'm still hungry."

"Doesn't Lydia feed you?" Sura murmured.

"She didn't today," J'Ziir said. "Because she has no idea where I am. I left before she woke up."

"She's sleeping?" Sura worried. "At this time of day? Why? Is she sick? Do you want me to go and take a look...?"

J'Ziir didn't answer but cleared his throat. He evaded her gaze and reached for the rest of the pie. "Krhm...I crave for something sweet right now."

"Did you eat something sour at home?" Sura asked.

"Not sour," J'Ziir replied. "Salty. Do you have another bottle?"

"Here," she thumped four bottles on the table. "Is that enough?"

"I only asked for one," J'Ziir pointed out. "But fine. I can take the rest with me."

"With you? Where are you going?" Sura asked.

"I have to go after this Scroll," J'Ziir explained. "Maybe I can finally save Skyrim from itself. And fulfill my destiny. Be the big hero."

"Your level of sarcasm is dwindling," Sura noted.

"Is it?" J'Ziir glanced at her and his fake worried expression brought a smile to Sura's face. "Can't be. I've been practicing a lot. I'm prepared to talk Alduin to death with my witty words."

"Better yet, shout him to death, once and for all," Sura said.

"I don't know," J'Ziir said. "That sounds a bit too cruel, don't you think? There he is, just flying around, doing what dragons do...he can't change his nature..."

"Are you trying to cheer me up?" Sura punched his shoulder.

"Is it working?" J'Ziir looked at her.

"Maybe," Sura admitted and smiled. She was glad that J'Ziir realized how lost and uncomfortable she felt in this position. And he at least tried to help her, with dry, silly humor if nothing else.

"Look," J'Ziir leaned closer and took her hands into his. "It's really not that hard. You'll get used to it. And learn to ignore a lot. Just focus on things that really matter to you."

"Are you seriously giving me advice?" Sura giggled. "I thought you came here for an angry lecture. Telling me how I stupid and childish I was."

"You were," J'Ziir's smile was gone. "And believe me, I was prepared to shout and yell. But then I realized you had apple pie...well, you know my weaknesses too well. And like you said, it's done and can't be changed. I just hope you don't regret it one day."

"If I do, it was my mistake and I'll live with it," Sura assured him.

"I'd just rather see you safe and happy," J'Ziir said. "Without regrets."

Sura sighed. "The only thing I regret right now is that I allowed Vilkas to leave Riften. If I'd gone with him, none of this would have happened."

"Or you would both be dead," J'Ziir noted. "Forget the ifs and maybes. Just know that you did everything you could to keep him safe. More than most would have."

"That's what one should do," Sura lowered her eyes. "For the ones you love. Try to protect them and make sure nothing bad happens to them."

J'Ziir was quiet for a while and then stood up. "I need to leave Lydia behind. If she comes here, don't tell where I went. She doesn't need to know."

"Are you leaving right now?" Sura jumped from her chair.

"I can't delay any longer," J'Ziir said. "It seems something has to be done."

"Just take care of yourself," Sura touched his arm. "I want you to come back, alright."

"An order from the new leader of the Companions?" J'Ziir smirked. "How nice of her to think about me."

"An order from your sister," Sura wrapped her arms around him. "You better take it more seriously than any advice from the Harbinger."

"Just remember," J'Ziir hugged her tight. "You earned this place. If someone tells you otherwise, remember what you did. For the one you love. And ask them would they do the same."

"Since when did you become so smart?" Sura whispered and pressed her ear against his beating heart. Steady, strong, powerful. He was like a solid piece of bedrock that would never waver, never give in. She had never felt as grateful to have him by her side.

"I was always smart," J'Ziir caressed her hair. "Unlike my foolish sister. I just don't see the need to show this side of myself too often. People like stupidity, if you give them little praise, they might see you as pitiful and give more than they wanted to."

"I bet Lydia would love this side of you," Sura chuckled. "I bet she already loves everything about you. Tell me, is that why you want to leave her behind?"

"No," J'Ziir said. "She would get in my way. Ruin my shots. Scream like a girl. I would always have to go looking for her, she would get lost in a snowstorm. And she might do something even worse than that. It's best if she stays here. For both of us."

"Oh, she might meet a handsome stranger and fall for him instead?" Sura teased him and smiled when he frowned. It seemed that it bothered J'Ziir. To think that Lydia might fall in love with someone else. "You know, that could happen here in Whiterun as well. Farkas is still available."

"If she wants to lower her standard that much then let her do it," J'Ziir snorted.

"Why don't you just marry her already?" Sura laughed. "This is getting tedious."

"Now that's an advice I'm going to ignore," J'Ziir grabbed knapsack by the door and prepared to leave. "But seriously, Raji. Don't let them walk all over you. Hold your head high and know that this is where you belong now. Make this place your home."

"I will if you promise to come back soon," Sura said. "If you don't show up, I'm going to come after you myself."

"I'll be back," J'Ziir assured her. "My safety is the last thing you need to worry about."

She knew that. J'Ziir always seemed to survive. Through anything. But still, she couldn't help but worry for him as walked down the hallway, holding his knapsack in his other hand, his massive armor glowing in the soft light of the candles. Even with dozens of other concerns, J'Ziir's absence was always somewhere in the back of her mind and her solemn, sincere wish was that he would come back like he was now, strong and healthy. She didn't care anymore if he was the Dragonborn. Now that title caused her to worry more than before. He was heading to meet the World Eater. All by himself.

_Alone._

And Lydia was left behind. He didn't tell her where he went. And to keep her safe, he chose to leave like a thief in the night. Because that's what he would do. For the one he loved.


	89. Chapter 89

**89.**

It was strange. The things he saw in this weird state between dreams and reality. Things he felt. Things he heard. He imagined he was lying in a bed, covered with a soft blanket. And Sura's scent flowed around him, embrace him, the familiar odor of lavender and tundra cotton. He had often reminded himself of these things, tried to keep remembering them in those long hours when the night just stretched on when the darkness never ended. It was his last defense mechanism, the last way he fought against the eventual descent into madness. He knew now that it hadn't worked because he was seeing and feeling things as if they were real. Like this bed underneath him, low voices coming from somewhere nearby, the hint of smoke in the air that was so reminiscent of Jorrvaskr.

This was it, he decided. The end of the road. No need to fight against it any longer, just let go. It will end soon enough anyway.

He opened his eyes and was surprised to see a comforting wooden roof over his head. Very interesting, he analyzed. As a young man, he read every book he managed to get his hands on. Among the fanciful tales of Barenziah and the more raunchy novels like the one about the Argonian maid – which Farkas practically ripped out his hands, the only book he ever agreed to read – Vilkas remembered reading about the Deadric Prince of Madness, Sheogorath. If this was his realm, if he was a permanent resident of Dementia now, the ruler of the place certainly had a twisted sense of humor.

He searched his whereabouts and suddenly it dawned on him. He was actually in Jorrvaskr. He touched the bed and the blanket with his hands and found it strange that he couldn't feel the rough surface of the fabric with his left hand. His fingers were moving, he managed to wave them around but they sank into the mattress when he laid his hand down. He lifted his arms to rub his face but when he felt the nub of the arm against his stubble, he flinched and yelped. The sound that emerged from his dry mouth was no more than a whisper. It was almost amusing like you could actually run away from your own body.

He stared at his hands; they were right above his face. His eyes knew what they saw but his brain found it absolutely unbelievable. His right hand was intact; all the fingers were in their right places. But his left hand…almost unrecognizable. A weird stump of a limb, ending just underneath his wrist, thin and bony like a draugr's arm. And the rest of his hand, the things that were meant to be there, his palm and his fingers. They were missing. Gone. He moved them and his brain felt like they were there, moving as he commands them to. He squeezed his hand into a wrist and the invisible fingers followed and touched his palm. He swiped the air with his right hand and half expected to feel his hands colliding in the mid-air. But no. They swung right through.

And then…like small raindrops falling from the ceiling, things began to fall into their places. Tiny shreds of memories, hitting him like shrapnel. At first, marrying the woman he loved. The incredibly happy days in Riften when it felt like they were both dancing on rosy clouds. After that, a note from Farkas and his quick departure from the town. And then…his brain didn't really want to remember the rest, but all of it came. Flushing his mind like a river filled with dirty, mucky floodwater after the harsh winter finally gave up. The attack on the mountains. Abaccus dead. And the weeks following that. His mind faltering, shattering and then almost leaving him permanently. The amount of pain his body could take, in all different forms. Changing back and forth, from man to beast and back, changing over and over again. Until he lost control.

Then, just like that. A familiar shape amidst the snowy trees. J'Ziir. Dragonborn. His brother-in-law. Family. He was found. Recovered. Saved. Against his will. And here he was. Brought back. Somewhere that reminded him of home. Either it was a well-constructed lie, a shallow act that would soon be pushed away. Or...and he didn't really dare to think so…it was reality and somehow, after everything, he was here.

He pushed the covers aside and his skin tingled in the cold air. He tried to get up but his legs were weak and instead of standing, he managed to stumble down to the floor and pull the covers with him. He laid there, too tired to move. His eyelids were heavy and all he wanted to do was sleep a little more. But the floor was cold and made his body shiver. He propped himself up with his wounded hand but fell right back when rest of his arm wasn't there to support him. His head banged the floor but the pain cleared his senses a bit. The door opened and a small ray of light entered the room. Right behind it was a delicious smell of food. Roasted meat, fresh bread, smoked salmon. From his point of view, he saw how a pair of tiny feet, covered in warm socks, walked into the room. And then a gasp or a sigh of surprise. Something metallic fell to the floor, maybe a fork or a knife, he didn't see what. Someone rushed to his side, pulled away the blanket and grabbed his other arm. Then he was hoisted up with little effort.

Their eyes met, after what felt like forever. His grey ones and her blue. His tired and weary, hers filled with worry and tears. A trick played by his mind, probably. A cruel joke of his heart. To bring something so beautiful in front of him, something he missed so dearly. Display it, keep it there long enough so he could lift his right hand and caress her face. And then, snatch it away before his fingers touched her skin.

_What?_

He was suddenly very scared when the vision before him didn't vanish into thin air. When her hand met his half way and she pulled it up and pressed it against her cheek. It meant that he was officially gone, crossed the border. That all his delusions, his hallucinations, were now real enough to touch. He pulled his hand away and tried to run, to deny it. Instead, he tripped on the blanker and was about to fall over again, but her hand came to support him. It wrapped around him, warm, strong and safe and it kept him on his feet.

"Leave me," he wheezed through his chapped lips. "Don't torment me like this."

"I'll never leave you again," Sura replied with a calm, steady voice. "Sit down."

His fantasy helped him back on the edge of the bed and then she fetched the small tray that she had with her when she entered the room. She brought it to him and laid it next to him on the bed. And all he could do was watch her. Follow her every move, absorb her presence. She was almost too beautiful to see, too gorgeous to his grotesque reality. But he understood that this hallucination was created by his mind, it tried its best to comfort him for one last time.

"Eat something," she coaxed him gently.

Vilkas stared. She was so familiar, so dear, and so lovely. So real. Her hair was longer than he remembered. Her fingers slender and small. Her eyes blue like the summer sky. Her scent unchanged. He didn't care anymore was this dream or reality. If he could keep her with him even like this, he would. She cut him some bread, spread butter on it and handed it to him. Dutifully he took it and ate. She smiled and poured him some spiced wine.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Tired," he replied. "You're here...how can...it..."

"Do you want to sleep some more?"

"No," Vilkas shook his head. He was afraid that if he fell asleep, she would disappear. He would once again have to wake up to his cold, unforgiving reality, where there would be nothing but pain and darkness and torment. No, he'd rather stay here, in this strange world, whatever it was.

"Sura," he said her name and she lifted her gaze.

"It's me," she caressed his cheek, leaned closer and kissed his forehead. "You're safe now. You're home, finally."

"Where are we?" he asked as if this place needed a name.

"Jorrvaskr," Sura said. "Don't you recognize it?"

Jorrvaskr? Was it strange to be here? No. To be honest, it was very logical when he thought about it. Of course, this is where he would imagine himself, naturally. To his home, to his bed, to his room. But the  _room_  seemed different. It wasn't his. He began to look around more. And soon he understood that for some reason, he was in Kodlak's room. In Kodlak's bed. But Kodlak was...dead? Wasn't he? And if he was dead, there had to be a new Harbinger. A new leader.

"Vilkas?" Sura touched his arm. "What is it?"

As the thoughts began to fill his head, he became aware of another thing too. He had slept surprisingly well, despite his current tiredness. His eyesight was different; he was barely able to see things in the dim light of the room. He couldn't hear sounds properly, like what was happening upstairs. The voices were muffled and quieter than usual. And the scent of food dissipated, it didn't fill his nostrils or linger around him like odors usually did.

"The wolf," Vilkas looked at her. "How come it's not here?"

"Isn't that a good thing?" Sura blinked.

"Even in dreams, it's usually here," Vilkas tried to explain. "No, there. Somewhere in the back…scratching my skull…it doesn't leave me…"

"Vilkas, this is not a dream," Sura took his hand into her own. "This is real."

"No, no," Vilkas shook his head. "It can't be. Can't be. You need to forget me…"

"Vilkas," Sura took his face into her hands and forced him to look at her. "You're really here. This is not a delusion. You're here and I'm here with you."

How was that possible? his confused mind screamed at him. It was not! It was a lie. And yet…here she was like he always wanted her to be. And he could touch her and caress her and hold her and she did not vanish. She did not fade into thin air when his hand came to rest of her cheek. And if this truly was a reality – which he was having a hard time believing – what happened to the wolf? Why was he so worried about its disappearance?

"Where is it?" Vilkas muttered. "The wolf?"

Her silence was very long and very awkward. And when she averted her eyes, when she avoided his gaze, the fear came back to him. It wasn't dead, he realized. The wolf wasn't dead. But it couldn't live outside his body. It was impossible. And the state it was in...it wasn't the wolf he lived his whole life with. It was turned into a beast, a monster, something he was barely able to recognize anymore. And it was still somewhere. Alive.

"Did you kill it?" Vilkas frantically searched answers from her face. "Tell me. What did you do with it?"


	90. Chapter 90

**90.**

It was a painful moment and the longer she was silent, the more suspicious he became. Sura looked him straight in the eyes but didn't say anything. It was all too much to blurt out. Too many things had happened, she had gone through so many different feelings. Explaining everything and so unexpectedly required strength that she didn't have right now. She didn't even have the words. Where and how to start. The silence grew, Sura pulled her hands away and sighed.

"It's complicated," she lowered her eyes. "I'll tell you everything later. Why don't eat some more, get your strength back."

"I don't want to eat," Vilkas pushed the tray away. "I need you to tell me what's going on."

"Lots of things happened," Sura began. "More than I can explain with just a few words. But as of right now, everything is…alright, I suppose."

Vilkas watched her. He couldn't get rid of the feeling that something wasn't right, no matter how much she tried to assure him. She was hiding things from him. And that was strange since they always shared everything. Her evading eyes caused him to worry and not just for himself. He didn't really care that much about himself anymore but his love for her was unchanged. Her odd behavior made him concerned for her. If she had done something dangerous just to save his life, he knew he wouldn't be able to help her, especially not in this condition. He looked down at his hand and a bitter smile rose to his lips. Sura sighed, touched the nub of his arm and gently caressed it.

"This doesn't change anything," she whispered. "You are still the man I love."

"Am I?" Vilkas glanced at her. "I know the wolf is gone. What happened to it?"

"Did you want me to kill it?" Sura asked and her words confirmed his fears. The wolf wasn't gone, she had done something to it.

"It's not dead?" Vilkas gasped.

He didn't know why he was so surprised; after all, he somehow knew it still lingered around them. But something else troubled him. They were both different than before. He was changed because of his ordeal. But Sura…he couldn't say it out loud, it more of a hunch than anything else, but there was something dangerous lurking by. Like a huge shadow that hung over her head, an executioner's ax ready to strike her down.

"No," she replied. "It's not dead."

"Why?" he yelled. He pushed the tray aside and the plates, the food and everything else on it fell to the floor." What did you do?"

"Calm down," Sura didn't flinch. Vilkas had never yelled at her, he never showed his anger towards her in any way. She expected this. She even felt that she deserved it.

She knew Vilkas wouldn't accept what she did. If she managed to explain everything to him, he still might not agree. It scared her. To think that he actually could just leave her after all this. She wanted to tell him and tried to find the words to start but he pushed the covers aside and stood up. He was still wobbly; his head a mess and was barely able to stay on his feet. Sura jumped up and seized his arm. He shook his head and pushed her away from him. He was angry, confused and bitter. She had the chance to end it and still, she didn't do it. For what? He couldn't understand it.

"Just let me be," Vilkas muttered and faltered towards the door. "I need to think..."

"Vilkas, slow down," Sura hurried to him when he had to stop and lean against the door frame. He was breathing hard, gasping for air and his heart was about to burst out of his chest. "You barely ate."

"Leave me be!" he shouted at her, his voice crackling and faltering. "Why didn't you kill it? And me with it? Can't you see what I am now!"

"You're tired and exhausted," Sura said and her voice remained calm.

"Don't!" Vilkas cursed under his breath. "Don't treat me like I don't understand anything anymore. Like you have to protect me from something!"

"Haven't you always tried to do the same?" Sura asked and refused to leave his side. "It's my turn now."

"I'm fine," Vilkas grunted. "You should have left me there."

"No," Sura wrapped her other hand around his body and supported him. "I don't care what you think right now. I would never leave you behind. Now, tell me where you want to go and I'll help you."

"I can walk by myself!" he snapped and pried her hand away. "I'm not a child!"

"Alright," Sura retreated. "Fine then."

He could see the hurt in her eyes. The last thing he wanted was to yell at her, to cause her pain. But he couldn't think straight and he needed a quiet place where to gather his thoughts and understand what happened. Everything was a huge jumbled mess. He staggered through the study and pushed open the door that led to the hallway. He was unable to go any further and he fell to his knees on the stone floor. His body was bruised and banged but he barely noticed. He heard her footsteps behind him and held out his hand.

"Don't touch me!" he coughed.

"I won't," Sura assured him. "I won't, Vilkas."

She reminded herself that Vilkas was confused and there was no need for her to be upset or offended. He needed time and she was ready to give him that. And honestly, her heart wasn't in such pain because of his yelling. Or that he tried to push her away. Those things didn't matter now. She was hurting because of him. If there was a way she could take away all that anxiety and uncertainty he was feeling, she would do that in a heartbeat. But the only thing she was able to do for him now was a call for help. She saw Farkas at the other end of the hall and waved her hand to him. He rushed over and knelt next to his brother.

"What happened?" he looked at her.

"Vilkas," Sura bend down and her voice was soft and soothing. "Where do you want to go? Farkas will help you."

"My…my room," Vilkas muttered.

Sura glanced at Farkas and he frowned. His eyes were full of questions that she had no intention of answering. She felt there was so much everyone suddenly needed from her, things she had to explain and clarify. So many questions that needed answers. Complicated answers that took hours. And her patience was running out. She said nothing but cocked her head towards Vilkas' room. With one swift move, Farkas lifted his brother back on his feet and led him to his old room. Sura was still standing at the hall when he came out and closed the door behind him. An awkward silence fell between them and finally, Farkas cleared his throat.

"He seems angry," Farkas glimpsed behind him. "Why?"

"Let him be for now," Sura tried to smile. "Angry is better than dead."

"Did he just wake up?" Farkas asked.

"He's confused," Sura sighed. "No surprise there. We just have to do our best to help him. If he asks something, just tell him what you know. Don't hide things from him. It will only make it harder."

Farkas nodded. They stood in the hallway for a while. Then he turned to her and said he was heading up. Aela was out in the training yard testing the potential recruits. He said he wanted to join in. Sura nodded and as he left, she walked back to her quarters. She shut the door and leaned against it, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She knew this wouldn't be easy. Far from it. But she had no idea it would hurt this much. To be pushed away from him when all she wanted to do was help.

She walked back to her bedroom and gathered the smashed plates and broken pieces from the floor. Two bottles of mead were tossed around and their content was spread all over the bed. Slowly she changed the covers and the pillows and then she carried the tray back upstairs. She walked to the table, frowned and decided she would not give in so easily. She fought damn hard to keep him alive. She had made sacrifices and accepted a role that was forced upon her. She slammed the tray down. She didn't notice old Vignar who was sitting on the bench, by the door. He was drinking some mead and his hand froze halfway when he noticed something very strange in her. Her tail was thicker than before. It was almost... _canine_. He saw it only for a moment and later brushed it off as a mild hallucination caused by the drink.

Sura grit her teeth emptied the tray and gathered some more food into it. She never felt like this. Like a leaf carried by a strong current. Knowing exactly where she was headed and what she needed to do. She picked the tray up and walked back downstairs. She knocked at his door, waited a few seconds and walked in. He was sitting on his bed, staring at his hands. Sura said nothing when she placed the tray on the table. She turned, opened one of his cupboards and placed some clean clothes on his bed.

"I know you don't want to talk me right now," she said. "But you need to eat."

"Just...leave me alone for now," he glared at her.

"Eat," Sura stared back. "So you have the energy to keep shouting at me. So you have the energy to keep fighting with me. I won't give up on you. Even if it means you and I spend the rest of our lives fighting. I'll take that! I'd rather argue with you than live completely without you."

Vilkas didn't answer. He closed his eyes and shut her out. She was getting quite angry now but she realized she couldn't take it out on him. It wasn't right. She turned and walked to the door. As she passed the table, she remembered leaving her part of Eye on the small jar on the table. She stopped, opened the jar and took the necklace. She didn't hesitate when she put it on. Her mother wouldn't come back; this was now her struggle. And she was happy that it was hers. No more running away from difficulties. It was time to face them head-on. The jewel calmed her down a little and gave her patience. Yes, she thought. I have to patient with him. Patient.

I have to wait for him now. Like he waited for me when I was hurting.


	91. Chapter 91

**91.**

Vilkas felt like he was thrown into a strange magical reality that somehow resembled his past life in a weird, twisted way. It was familiar, he recognized the faces around him, the people who talked to him. And at the same time, this present moment was too unrealistic for him to understand. It was slippery like ice, no matter how many times he tried to get back on his feet, he always stumbled back down. He was confused; his body was so weak and fragile, that he decided to remain in his room until something made sense. He locked the door, fell onto his bed and pulled the blankets over his face. He tried and realized that only half of his head was covered because his invisible fingers disobeyed him. He once again stared at his hand and decided to live with it. It couldn't be changed; it wouldn't grow back so there was no point pining after it.

Farkas was the only piece of this weird world that he allowed in. His brother hadn't changed and Vilkas was relieved to see it. Farkas remained the same as before. Straight and honest, not very subtle but he didn't hold anything back. He brought food and under his watchful, almost demanding gaze, he agreed to eat it. And while he devoured his meals, Farkas answered his questions and told him everything that happened while he was gone. He listened and tried to put the pieces together.

Kodlak was dead. That much he knew. And Skjor wasn't with them either. He had faint memories of that too. But what came after was almost too hard to believe. Sura was now the Harbinger. Kodlak's spirit was freed and Sura granted his wish to enter Sovngarde. She didn't kill Kodlak's wolf spirit, she absorbed it. Farkas had no idea what she was or what she would become. Kodlak had named his successor outside of the Companions. He had chosen a mage as the Harbinger.

There was a time in Vilkas's life when he was strongly against magic. He always saw it useless and fake, something that you couldn't touch and grab. It was like cheating, you didn't need skills or years of training to cast a few spells. He despised witches and yet he considered mages the most dangerous enemies he faced. One had to be cunning and careful to kill one of those. His sword was made out of steel and it felt real and concrete. When he wielded that, he knew for sure when his enemy was down. But something happened that changed his worldview without him even realizing it. A small, white-furred Khajiit girl entered his life and suddenly magic wasn't something he overlooked. He read books about it and sometimes even analyzed his enemies during a fight. He counted the seconds and began to understand how long certain flame bursts and lightning bolts would last. He began to see magic differently. At first, he didn't acknowledge it, but every time he killed a bandit who used magic against him, he began to feel certain…respect towards their skills.

And now the Harbinger was a  _mage_. The leader of the Companions used magic as her primary weapon. It was unheard of. Unprecedented. Was it unacceptable? He asked Farkas what he thought about it. And like always, he didn't think or calculate before he answered. Kodlak had chosen her and he was sure that Kodlak made the right decision. He was sure that they had the best Harbinger after Kodlak. He had no doubts that Sura wasn't up to the task.

Vilkas didn't really know how to feel about it. But he was mildly happy that his first reaction wasn't a rejection. What struck him more unbelievable was the change he saw in Sura and everything that Farkas told him. It was his wife who took the responsibility when everyone else stood on the sidelines and wondered what to do. It was his wife who pulled them all together. It was her who fought to save his life when everyone else – including him – insisted that it was the wrong choice. He realized that Sura had always been the one who took the first step. She waited for him and when he didn't do anything, she acted. And now she had done the same thing again. She waited and while he pondered, she came to a conclusion and made her decision, whether it was right or wrong. It was better to move than stay in one place, no matter how hard to the road ahead might be.

When he asked Farkas about the wolf, he was quiet for a long time. Then he said he didn't know what happened. They weren't in the main chamber at the time. But they both agreed that Vilkas' wolf spirit wasn't with him anymore. Farkas tried to explain what he felt. Like his own spirit was mourning. First because of Skjor, then for Kodlak and now for Vilkas. When Vilkas glanced at him, he shrugged and said there was no better way to describe it. Vilkas never thought he would feel like this. He always agreed with Kodlak that freeing themselves was the best solution. But now…now it was like he lost a piece of himself somewhere. Not just his arm, but something more important.

After a few days, he knew he could live well enough without his left arm. That wasn't the reason why he kept avoiding everyone, especially his wife. Farkas told him that Sura waited for him every night. She stood in the hallway for a long time and stared at his door. She only entered her room when the last of the new recruits stumbled down the hallway half drunk and straightened themselves in front of her. She never frowned at them, never screamed or shouted; one quiet glance was enough to send them on their way towards the sleeping quarters. Vilkas's love for his wife hadn't changed. If anything, it was stronger than before. His enormous gratitude towards her was one of the reasons that kept him from talking to her. He had no words and he was ashamed of his behavior, those first few moments when he shuffled out her quarters.

The wolf was gone but he realized he was sleeping worse than before. He often woke up in the middle of the night; bad dreams crawled their way into his mind. They carved endless tunnels, like hungry ants burrowing deeper into the ground. Every night he slithered a little deeper down those narrow corridors and faced yet another memory he wanted to forget. When he jumped off his bed, covered in sweat, blood pounding in his ears, gasping for air and waking up to reality, he wished Sura was there with him, wrapping her arms around him and embracing him. He missed her and her absence caused him almost physical pain. Once or twice he actually left his room and walked up to her door. When he raised his hand and realized he was about to knock, he felt like a fool. To knock on her door. Like a guest. Like a stranger. Like someone who had no room in her life. To ask a permission to come in. He knew he was lying to himself, maybe to ease his own guilt. In a certain way, he wanted to believe that she no longer loved him. If she didn't, he could justify his attitude in some way. But he knew Farkas didn't lie. Sura waited for him. In the hallways. In the main hall. Out in the training yard. In her quarters. She waited. For a broken man who didn't know where he belonged and who he really was anymore.

And as time passed on, it became even harder to face her. She didn't judge him and there was no anger in her eyes. She didn't impose on him and he had a feeling that she did her best to avoid him whenever she could. And soon enough he began to hear things that made him worry. Small things, really. Nothing that should cause him to be alarmed. But the more he heard, the more worried he became. And every time he saw her, he watched for the changes the others think they saw.

He didn't notice anything different.

At least he thought he didn't.

He hoped he didn't.

Until one day he was watching her and she turned to face him. Her eyes scared him, shivers ran down his spine. He had never seen them like that. Big and shiny, glowing bright and sharp. She looked at him and her gaze was emotionless. No anger but no affection either. Like she was momentarily lost in some wild, strange world, replaced by someone else. Or in this case –  _something_  else. Vilkas remembered a time in Riften when Sura's mother Namada reached out from a strange, in-between place, and spoke through her daughter. But Namada never wanted to hurt her daughter. She knew her restrictions. This wild thing that now lived inside Sura wasn't the same.

He knew well enough the creature that lurked in the shadows and hung over her head. He could almost see its silhouette, towering over her small, innocent frame. This cursed creature that tried to take her over and claim her. Vilkas fought the same urge most of his life and knew the deadly attraction it offered. He spoke to Farkas about it. His twin said he could sense the beast in Sura. And he sensed something else too. It's power over him. It was the old alpha and could call upon the rest of them anytime it wanted. He felt like it was waiting for the right moment.

The fact that she had absorbed Kodlak's wolf spirit made him question his own hatred. His loyalty towards Kodlak. Why he suddenly felt like he was betraying his mentor, his master. He left Jorrvaskr one late afternoon, walked through the city and felt people's eyes on him. He gained more strength in these past few weeks, thanks to Farkas who kept dragging him out in the training yard. He still used his sword and after a few awkward, clumsy days, he learned a new way to use his shield with his injured hand. Now he didn't even notice his missing fingers anymore. But the way the townspeople watched him made him once again very conscious of himself and hurried his steps.

He past the stables and for the first time in ages he thought of Abaccus. Gloomy sadness overtook him when he remembered what happened to it and he turned away, dull ache pressing in his chest. Another friend, another brother lost. He didn't want to think about the narrow mountain pass where its remains were left. Covered by the snow, ignored and forgotten. It wasn't the end he wanted to it. And he promised to himself he would one day go back and say goodbye to his loyal friend. Goodbye and thank you.

He continued on, up the hills until he found himself in a low ridge filled with pine trees and the familiar sound of the cold stream that was running down the mountain. He sat down and looked down on the plains. Whiterun was clearly visible and the tall peaks of Dragonsreach climbed up towards the sky. He felt strange watching the city from afar. He felt the urge to run back, run to his home. Because that's what it was. Home. Not just the city. This forest, the stream, this cold, brisk wind that brushed down the mountainside. He missed all of these things. He looked around and saw a patch of blue flowers growing in harsh, frozen ground. He missed those too and he dearly missed the woman who loved those flowers.

Sitting up here, looking down, he understood something else, something he only now noticed. His vision wasn't as sharp as it used to. His ears weren't as keen as before. He could barely hear the birds chirping and as the eagle cried up in the sky, he had to look up to locate its silhouette. He was afraid to admit it, but he realized very clearly that he also missed his wolf. And as he finally acknowledged it, a huge wave of relief washed over him. Yes, he missed that wretched being. He missed its senses and its wild nature. Despite the pain it caused, he missed running down the mountainside, seeing the Aurora's blazing above him brighter than ever before. Feeling the power it offered, the strength it possessed.

He sighed and silently apologized to Kodlak, not being strong and determined enough. Not being able to stand by this decision. He knew if there ever was a chance, he might take his wolf back and try to live more peacefully with it. Be more merciful towards it. He knew he was alive only because of the wolf. Because it had endured, it had taken the worst beating. And the Silver-Hand, werewolf hunters, targeted him because of his wolf. He remembered now what happened to them. And he felt sick satisfaction knowing that they were now all gone. It had beaten them all. Proved that it also had the right to exist. It had survived them. What justification he had to end its life? To kill his own savior.

As he later walked back towards Whiterun, he felt only regret. It had taken him so long to understand such simple things. He started to understand that his wolf was gone and there was no way it could return. And as soon as the thought came to him, he stopped to his tracks.

Sura didn't kill his wolf. But she also didn't tell him what happened to it. No…he shook his head. He hadn't given her a chance to tell. He had pushed her away in his misery and confusion. If he approached her now, would she still accept him? If he asked her now, would she tell him what happened? What had she done with his wolf?

And was it possible…he didn't even dare to think about it…to get it back?


	92. Chapter 92

**92.**

She was slowly starting to have enough. She waited and waited. Patiently and kindly. She understood. She let him be. She didn't invade his space, she allowed him to have his freedom. But her patience was running out. Every time someone knocked at her door, she hoped it was Vilkas. But it never was. Every time someone tapped her shoulder in the mead hall, she wished it was Vilkas. Still, it never was. Every time someone called out for her, momentarily she foolishly thought it was Vilkas. And it never was.

She didn't sleep during the night, she tossed and turned. She didn't eat during the day; she nibbled and then pushed her plate away. Her muscles were aching and her body was strangely tense. She had short moments when she completely blacked out. She could be walking down the hallway from the staircase to her quarters and suddenly the soft light of the candles faded and before she realized she was at her door. One night she was out in the training yard looking up at the sky, admiring the Aurora's. In the next second, she realized she was on top of Skyforge, literally on top of it. She was sitting on the eagle's head and had no idea how she got there in the first place. She glanced down and was relieved that no one was out in the yard. But it took some time and effort to get down without hurting herself or breaking a bone or two.

She hated the nights. The bed was too big, too cold and too lonely for her. She never slept for more than a few hours and then she was up and about again, reading old books and pacing back and forth. What she didn't know is that she kept most of Jorrvaskr awake with her. Through the wall, Farkas heard every move she made and that caused him to get up, pick up an old lute from the corner and play a few notes. Those quiet noises traveled down the hallway and woke up Aela. She grimaced and sighed. Not again. Vilkas was already awake and he laid in his bed, trying to calm his breath, listening to the silent tune. Further away Torvar's insane snoring kept the rest of the Companions, Ria, Athis and Njada awake. It was worse than before and at some time during the night Njada grabbed an empty tankard from the floor and threw it straight into his face. He flinched, snorted, turned around and continued, only much louder.

After the first week, everyone agreed. Something had to be done. Yes, the Companions had a new Harbinger. But the damage remained. The Circle was crippled and incomplete. No one really knew the direction they were heading. People of Skyrim still trusted them and not a day passed by when a courier didn't stop at Jorrvaskr. But it was still unclear who was sent to deal with all those problems. Farkas and Aela handled the new recruits and Sura noticed how the pile of papers grew taller on her table. It was during one of those sleepless nights as she sat down and began to go through them.

The next morning she walked straight to Aela and Farkas. She told the huntress to head towards Markarth with whomever she wanted and take care of the spider problem. She also asked Farkas was he able to deal with the bandits that attacked the travelers in roads near Whiterun. As soon as the orders were given, Jorrvaskr emptied. Aela took the two women with her and Farkas left with Torvar and Athis. Sura looked at the papers that were strewn about on her desk. It wasn't much but it was a start. She realized they needed more people and decided she would focus most of her attention on the new recruits for now. And with that, she almost managed to push Vilkas out of her mind.

Almost.

In truth, he was never that far away from her. But there were new things that required her attention and she forced him away. Sometimes she glanced at her wedding band and a small voice inside her whispered that she was now practically a widow of a man who was very much alive but refused to let go of his nightmares. That her husband still lived, his body functioned and he ate and slept like a real person, but his mind was dead and destroyed. And the fact that she couldn't do anything, couldn't help him in any way, he didn't even want to see her, drove her mad. Sometimes when she thought about it, she clenched her hands into fists and realized only later that her nails punctured her skin and she was bleeding. She didn't understand where such anger came from and she tried to calm herself down the best she could.

She didn't know what she was angry about but sometimes small, tiny, little thing caused her blood to boil and she had to bite her tongue to keep those bitter, unfair accusations inside of her. Her rational mind knew this was new to everyone and it would take time to get everything running again. But there was a part of her that just wanted to burn the whole place down and leave. It was a sinister, dark, evil side that she didn't know existed inside of her. She wondered where it came from. And what it would make her do.

One evening she knew she needed to get out of Jorrvask or she would really set the place on fire. Aela was still out with her Shield-Sisters but Farkas and the others had returned. She passed them in the corridor and as she walked by, they stopped talking as if there was something they didn't want her to hear. Such a little thing…it sent ugly chills down her spine. She didn't want to hear what they were saying and she hurried on. She knew if she stopped and faced them, she might do something. She might unleash something…terrifying. She rushed out of the mead hall, ran down the stone stairs, pass Gildergreen and down the Market. She didn't stop and headed straight towards the main gate. She didn't know where she was going and why but she wanted to be alone, wanted to get a grip on herself and her thoughts.

_Run away, yes!_

The thought slowed her down and she stopped. Am I? she asked herself. Running away again? Not from the Orc this time. Not from the nightmares that never left her alone. No, I pulled through that, she thought. Then why? came another question. I run…because I'm afraid, she admitted. That there's no way of getting him back, no way of getting over this strange chasm between us. No way of crossing it. She was here, standing on the ledge, trying to reach out, shouting, and screaming his name. And he didn't hear her. He just walked on, like on a dream, with empty eyes and deaf ears. There was no way of reaching him because he didn't want to hear her.

She felt dizzy, her head was spinning and she had to squat down. She hugged her knees and forced herself to breathe. She didn't hear when a door opened to her left but she did feel a warm, friendly hand on her shoulder and understood why she stopped right here. She needed a friend right now. That one person who had always been there for her. And then she remembered. She had a family outside the Companions. She lifted her head and saw Lydia's smile and her worried eyes. She knelt down next to her and wrapped her arm around her shoulders.

"Do you want to talk?" Lydia finally asked and she simply nodded. "Come inside, let's have a drink."

Breezehome was cozy and warm and once she stepped inside, she instantly felt better, calmer. As she walked in, she noticed some changes. Lydia had used her time efficiently. She was wearing one of her old dresses, her hair was loose and she looked like a real homemaker. She took out two tankards and filled them with ale. Sura sat down near the fire and gulped down half the pint as soon as she gave it to her. She and Lydia rarely drank but every now and then it felt good to just sit down and relax.

"Welcome, Harbinger," Lydia smiled and raised her mug.

Sura just sighed and shook her head. "Far from it," she finally murmured.

"Why?" Lydia raised her eyebrows. "Aren't things going well now? From what I've heard, the Companions are once again protecting not just Whiterun, but all of Skyrim. I just saw Aela and the others leave a couple of days ago and Farkas and his gang took care of that bandit group near the Meadery."

"Just because I sent Aela and Farkas do some dirty work, it doesn't mean everything is alright," Sura lowered her gaze.

"What's wrong then?" Lydia asked.

"Haven't you heard?" Sura glanced at her. "The rumors of the mage Harbinger, her mutilated husband, and their failed marriage. And how they thought they could go up against everything, as long as they were together."

"No, I haven't heard anything like that," Lydia shook her head. "And you shouldn't think like that either."

"I don't know," Sura stared at the fire. The flames were hurting her eyes and she blinked. "I guess I'm just really tired, that's all."

"At least you know where he is," Lydia muttered. "J'Ziir didn't even tell me when he left. And I haven't heard a word since."

"Lydia…I'm…"

"You don't have to say anything," Lydia raised her hand. "I know he came to see you. Probably told you where he was going. And he made you promise not to tell me so I wouldn't follow him."

Sura didn't answer, there was nothing she could say. They were both alone, in their own way, Lydia and her. They both loved their men but right now neither of them wanted or needed them. It was a hard thing, this one-sided love. When all you wanted to do was to give, help, and ease the burden of the other person. And all you were able to do was stand there, waiting, endlessly waiting.

"Do you think…it would have been easier if you just married Hadvar and moved to Solitude?" Sura asked her.

"Of course it would," Lydia replied.

"And do you regret it?" Sura continued. "That you didn't marry him?"

"No," Lydia said. "I don't."

"Why?" Sura asked.

"Just because it's easy, doesn't make it right," Lydia explained. "If I married Hadvar, he and I would have been miserable together. He's a good man; he deserves to find someone who makes him happy, not just…settle for something that might make him content."

"But J'Ziir hasn't told you he loves you," Sura sighed.

"Not with words," Lydia smiled. "I don't need words to know it."

Sura took a deep breath and drank the rest of her ale. It was all for nothing. She hadn't really gained anything from this conversation. Things in Jorrvaskr were still the same. And when she would return, nothing would change. Unless she forced the change which she was hesitant to do. The atmosphere was vulnerable and unstable. Dropping a rock in the middle of the pond might cause waves she wouldn't be able to handle.

"What's this really about?" Lydia asked. "Are you worried he doesn't love you anymore? Or do you doubt your own feelings?"

"He doesn't let me help him," Sura finally said. "He doesn't talk to me. He doesn't see me. There's no " _us_ " anymore, there's just me and him and this widening gap between us. I don't know how to close it or how to get across. I've waited and waited for him to come to me, I've given him time…"

"Then stop waiting," Lydia said. "Haven't you done that most of your life?"

"It's easier to wait for him," Sura whispered.

"Just because it's easy…"

"Doesn't mean it's right," Sura finished. "I know."

"Good," Lydia smiled. "Another ale?"

"No thanks," Sura said. "One's enough for me."

They chatted for a while longer then sat in silence for the rest of the time. Their friendship allowed such moments, just being together without words. Both in their own world. Two women thinking about the complicated men they loved.

"Did you ever ask him?" Sura asked just before she got up. "Does he love you?"

"No," Lydia smiled. "But I got an answer just as well."

"How?" Sura looked at her.

"When he left without a word," Lydia explained. "Knowing that he would have to do something very dangerous. There was a time when he said I was just in the way or that I was a nuisance. He would probably say that now if you asked. But the real reason is my answer."

"He doesn't want you there in case something goes wrong," Sura nodded. "If something happened to you…"

"Maybe I'm just imagining things," Lydia smiled. "But I'd like to think there's more to it than that. That he cares enough to make sure I'm safe. Even when he's not. That he has someone to come back to. That he has a home to come back to."

"Well, one thing's for sure," Sura laughed. "You are head over heels."

"Like I said, you don't always need words," Lydia told her. "Not everything can be solved with words. Maybe Vilkas needs a closure. Is there a way you can give him that?"

Sura looked at the flames and nodded. Lydia was right. There had to be a way to end this deadlock. To open this tight knot between them. To do that, she might have to be cruel, she might have to hurt him before they could heal together. But it was the only way she knew how to move on right now. She made her decision, laid down her tankard and stood up. Lydia hugged and, held her tight and smiled. There was at least one person who completely trusted her and had faith in what she was doing. She walked to the door and was about to open it when Lydia called her.

"Oh, I almost forgot!" she yelped and ran upstairs. "Just wait a moment, this won't take long."

She heard Lydia rummaging through her small room and soon enough she appeared at the top of the small ladder. She rushed to her and placed a small ring on her open palm. She looked at it, not really sure what she was seeing. Was it really…could it be..?

"Yes," Lydia nodded. "It's Vilkas's wedding band."

"Wha…how did you get this?" Sura asked.

"I stopped to browse the wares of Ri'saad's caravan a few weeks ago," Lydia said. "It was among his things and I haggled with him for nearly an hour before he agreed to sell it to me at a reasonable price."

"Did you ask him how he got it?"

"He told me they found a bunch of dead bandits near an old fortress," Lydia continued. "It was among the things they scavenged."

"I don't know how to thank you," Sura muttered.

"You silly girl," Lydia waved her arm. "Remember what we talked about. Just giving it back to him tells him more than anything you could say with few words. Maybe it's enough to remind him that he is not as alone as he thinks he is."

Sura hugged her tightly. She didn't know what she did to deserve Lydia in her life. But she prayed she could keep her as her friend for the rest of her life. And she hoped that her brother would soon open his eyes and realize that Lydia would not wait forever, no matter how patient she seemed to be. As she left Breezehome and walked into the cool night air, she clenched her fist around the ring and for the first time in weeks, she felt hope rising its head somewhere inside her heart.


	93. Chapter 93

**93.**

Of course, she believed that. Why wouldn't she? She had all the answers now. All she had to do was walk back to Jorrvaskr, find Vilkas, corner him if necessary and bombard him with questions. And she had every intention of doing so when she left Breezehome. She felt warm and comfortable, the ale relaxed her body and the talk with Lydia made her find paths she hadn't seen before. Yes, to Jorrvaskr. To Vilkas. She wasn't about to put this off any longer. Lydia was right, she waited long enough. She took two steps and then she froze. Her head tilted back and her eyes opened, wide, big and sparkling. Their usual shade of blue faded away, it was suddenly like looking through two gold coins. Watching and seeing. The two moons were full, bright and closer than ever. She could see the stars, reaching down on her and she lifted her arms like in a dream, slow and heavy, and she could almost –  _almost_  – touch them with her fingertips.

She turned and walked to the main gate. She felt like she was floating, like moving in a strange, hazy dream. She was taken over by something and she willfully let it happen. Her tail thickened, the hair grew longer and rougher. Her nails grew in length and sharpened. Her muscles and bones ached more than ever. Her blood rushed through her, hot and boiling, causing her heart to beat faster. She was walking and panting, breathing heavily like she had run for miles and miles. She knew where this current led her, somewhere out of sight, in the cover of the trees where this wild, strange, dangerous transformation could come to its end. She had no way of stopping it and she wasn't sure would she stop it if there was a way. This was the price she paid for her life all those years ago. When the creature saved her and how she in return spared its life. Kodlak was right, her foggy mind screamed at her. You had no idea…no idea of what you were doing…!

She went with it, not knowing where she would end up, dead or alive by the time it was over. She smelled the snow, felt it on her face and when she glanced behind her, she saw she was high on the mountaintop. When the cold wind and the blinding blizzard forced her to close her eyes, the first muscle spasm came and she screamed out of pure pain as she fell down. She heard of the sound of ripping fabric and momentarily it reminded her of another time and another life ( _Well, if this little fleabag is so important...he will get his house cat back...eventually!_ ). But the pain didn't give her time for such memories. It wrecked her body and she wailed and moaned, scratched the ground beneath her, writhed in agony when she heard her bones snap. Her limbs elongated and grew, her hair whipped in the wind, and she cried tears of blood and tried to breathe through a mouth filled with dangerously sharp teeth.

And then she was lost.

But she had never felt such freedom in her life. The pain lifted and she straightened herself. Her vision was clear, her ears were sharp, and she heard every sound, saw the small flickering lights in the farmhouses down in the plains, through the blizzard and the snow. Her clothes remained where they were, discarded, torn apart and forgotten. She wasn't cold, the wind didn't bother her. She felt the need to run, to jump and to climb. It was strange, it wasn't really her that was in control but she was there, conscious and alive, like a rider on the horse, holding the reigns. And at that moment, she wanted to drop everything and just let go.

And so she did.

The white wolf rushed forward, down the steep hill, not falling or stumbling, but in perfect balance. Every stride made her want to go faster and she picked up the speed. She leaned forward running now on all fours, her nails grappling the ground with every long leap and spurring her forward. The snow whirled around her but he was nearly invisible, only her eyes glowed like two bright, pure diamonds. She ran for hours and as she reached the mountains across the plains of Whiterun, she stopped and stood on her hind legs. She growled at first and listened. Her pack would come if she called them. So far she had enjoyed running alone, getting used to the environment and her new form. But there was something missing. Her pack had two leaders. She and her alpha male. She sniffed the air and gnarled.

A dim, blue glow began to appear next to her. He answered her call and howled. It was an eerie sound, a cry of a spirit that couldn't materialize, couldn't be there next to her as an equal, but as a memory of what could have been. She understood why she saved him. When she absorbed Kodlak's spirit, it changed its form. It still possessed the knowledge, the wisdom and the memories but now it was an image of her. And like she missed the man she loved and was married to, her wolf missed its mate and its partner. It's true companion.

The spirit wolf ran beside her for a while but eventually, it couldn't keep up and it began to fade. After some time she was once again all alone. She continued on until something else stirred inside her. The hunger. It caused her pupils to dilate, to search for prey. She slowed down and sniffed the air. The familiar and tale-telling smell of smoke drifted to her and she followed it. Through the shadows of the trees, she saw a small group of people and she didn't have to listen for long to understand that they were bandits preying on the farmers and passing travelers.

When the wolf decided to attack, she decided to let go and draw back. She didn't know what happened; she heard only screams, shouts and terrible moans. She tasted blood and drew even further back, allowed the wolf to fully become what it really was. She justified it by telling herself that they were bandits, taking advantage of others, using innocent people for their own gain. At least their death was quick, she thought to herself but somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it wasn't painless.

She lost the track of time when the wolf finally took over. She was wrapped in darkness but it was comforting and cozy and warm. She wasn't afraid and she didn't feel cursed. If anything, this darkness, this separation from her physical being, gave her time to think. I suppose I now belong to Hircine, she thought. A Daedra owns my soul. She wondered what her father would say but no answer came. Then she thought about her mother and remembered that she was a Nightingale, a servant of Nocturnal. As was J'Ziir. Guess she wasn't that different from her mother and her brother. The thought didn't give her such a fright. She wasn't a Nord so Sovngarde didn't hold any illusions for her. She would one day enter Hircine's hunting grounds, she concluded her somber thoughts of the afterlife. Someday…alone or together with her mate.

Later, much, much later, when the dawn broke through and the first blinding rays of the sun peeked over the mountains, she woke up at the shore of Lake Illianata. Her whole body was aching, she was naked, muddy, covered in dirt and soot, extremely tired – but she was back to her old self. She yawned and stretched and tried to get her muscles to warm up. Eventually, she waded into the water and washed the dirt away. Most of the tiredness vanished as the cold water embraced her with its icy fingers. She glanced up at the sky and knew she couldn't sneak back to Whiterun, let alone to Jorrvaskr, without clothes and unseen at the same time, no matter how early it was. She crossed the river and climbed up to the road that led towards Riverwood. When she saw the wooden guard towers, she used an invisibility spell and sprinted through the quiet little village as fast as she could. She saw no one else but a young Nord woman with her daughter.

She spared her powers and used the spell again only when she was out of the woods and near the city. The first problem she encountered was at the gate. Two guards stood on both sides of the big wooden door. If she went and opened it, it didn't just look weird; she might get into trouble and end up arrested. And how wonderful that would look. The Harbinger of the Companions caught naked and using invisibility spell in the break of dawn just to sneak into the city where she lived. But you never knew with the guards, sometimes they managed to arrest people for picking flowers and Commander Caius was losing his mind over such stupidities. She cursed silently and was about to turn back and maybe climb over the wall when she noticed first of the farmers coming towards the city, carrying heavy sacks of fresh vegetables and newly baked bread. She snuck in right on their heels and run up the stone stairs, passed the Battle-Born's estate and the Temple of Kynareth. She hurried on and almost ran straight into a guard patrolling beneath the Gildergreen. She managed to divert her steps just in time and swirled past. She arrived at Jorrvaskr but knew she didn't have enough power to keep the spell going so she hid in the bushes right by the door and waited. How nice, she thought ironically. Harbinger of the Companions, once again hiding, in the bushes no less, naked and unarmed.

After some time she decided to go for it. All she needed was to get inside and downstairs. She cast the spell, walked to the door and slowly opened it. She peeked inside and was relieved to see that no one was in the mead hall. She tiptoed through the hall and down the stairs. The door creaked as she opened it, she cringed and immediately she saw the two men at the other end of the hall. Farkas. And Vilkas. She sighed and hoped the spell would last long enough for her to pass them unnoticed. She held her breath and sneaked alongside the wall and as she approached them, she heard her own name mentioned several times.

"I'm telling you, she's not there," Vilkas declared. "Are you sure she didn't tell you where she was going?"

"Yes!" Farkas said and he was clearly annoyed. "If you talked to her, you wouldn't need to ask these things from me."

"She's been gone the whole night," Vilkas frowned.

"I'm sure she's fine," Farkas assured him. "And when she gets back, you better settle this thing between you two. I don't want to be the in the middle of this mess any longer."

"It's not that easy," Vilkas muttered.

"So you keep saying," Farkas rolled his eyes. "I know you don't want to hear this but…oh…"

Sura froze when Farkas suddenly stared right at her. She blinked and lowered her gaze. No, the spell was still active. She wasn't standing there, visible in the hallway, naked in front of the two men. But somehow he knew she was right there. He sniffed the air and cleared his throat.

"Krhm…Harbinger," Farkas muttered. "You've returned."

She didn't reply, just stood there. Vilkas also glanced around but he didn't seem to notice her. She counted the seconds, wondered how long till her powers ran out. She couldn't just keep standing here but she was curious to know how Farkas knew she was there.

"I can smell you," he replied to her silent questions. "And I can hear your footsteps. You are not wearing any boots…what's with the bare feet?"

"I…went swimming," she whispered and then she ran the rest of the way.

She slammed the door closed behind her at the last moment. Few seconds and her powers were used and she was once again visible and covered in cold sweat. Yes, she was invisible, but she stood there, in front of her husband and his brother, completely naked and exposed. She took a deep breath, walked to the bedroom and grabbed the first clothes she could get her hands on. A long cotton tunic and a pair of leather trousers. She barely had time to pull them on when someone knocked at the door. They both entered, Farkas came first and Vilkas right after him. Sura watched them closely and wondered what this was about. She didn't know should she tell them about last night or had they somehow sensed it. An awkward silence fell in the room, she could feel the tension hanging in the air and wrapping around them, making their thoughts slow and difficult to catch. Vilkas wanted to know where she had been but he knew he had no right to ask such questions. Sura just wanted to walk to him, pull him close and hold him tight but she didn't dare to move. She hardly remembered what Lydia told her last night. How come she ever thought it would be easy to face him and make him talk.

"Stop it!" Farkas finally roared at them. "You two stop this right now. Vilkas, you talk to her! Tell her what you told me!"

"Farkas," Vilkas glared at his brother. "It's too late for that."

"He wants it back," Farkas declared.

"What?" Sura asked. She didn't understand what he meant.

"His wolf," Farkas explained. "You didn't kill it. He wants it back. That's where we start."


	94. Chapter 94

**94.**

For the first time in years, Vilkas wanted to hurt his brother. Really hurt him. Shut his mouth, smack him across the face and sent him flying through the hallway. That's not what he said. But of course, it was like Farkas, to simplify things and ignore everything else. They had spent the entire night talking and Vilkas brought out his doubts, his fears, and his regrets. How he felt he failed Kodlak when he couldn't follow his orders. How he couldn't hate his wolf and how ironic it was that he actually missed the creature. He spoke for hours and Farkas listened and that's all he remembered from their conversation. That he wanted his wolf back. Sura didn't reject the idea outright which was terrifying and marvelous at the same time. She didn't say anything either and her blue eyes searched his face, looking for answers to questions she hadn't asked.

"What do you really want?" she finally said and her voice was tired. "Tell me. Do you want the wolf back? Or do you just want to kill it yourself? Maybe you want to be rid of me as well? Do you still love me?"

A line of questions was tossed at his face and her desperate voice almost drowned him. He couldn't answer the first two, but he didn't need to doubt when it came down to the rest. No, he didn't want to be rid of her. And yes! He did love her, more than ever. But telling her had become incredibly hard, too difficult for words.

"Do you want to me answer those for you as well?" Farkas nudged him and before he managed to find his voice, his brother blurted out: "Yes, no. No, yes!"

"Thank you, Farkas," Sura sighed. "I think we can manage without you now."

"Finally!" he yelled. He turned around, pat his brother on the shoulder and left the room.

When the door closed behind him, the awkward silence fell like an ax between them. Vilkas knew it had been exactly eighteen days and seventeen hours since they stood in this room together. Since that day they hadn't spoken to each other and now it seemed almost impossible. Why did he let this go on for so long? He could have fixed things sooner.  _No,_ a voice whispered.  _You barely knew what you were. How could you know anything besides your own pain?_

"You allowed Farkas to do the talking for you, which is strange," Sura finally began and hid her hands behind her back. He didn't need to see that she was trembling, nervous and tense. "You usually solve things with words better than he does."

"I guess I forgot more than I realized," Vilkas admitted.

He was slowly finding the words, but it took some time. While he was gathering his thoughts, he looked at her, really looked. He had no idea where she had been the whole night but her fur was filthy and dirty. She was usually meticulous about it and kept it clean and soft. He thought he saw some pine needles in her hair; he leaned closer and pulled them out. She turned and flinched, he was suddenly very close. His hand dropped to his side but he didn't move away.

"I…I do love you," he blurted out. "I never stopped loving you."

Sura didn't reply but her eyes told him everything he wanted to know and more. All is forgiven, she said. You are not alone, she said. I love you too. All that he could read from her gaze. And yet his own guilt weighed hard on him. His actions towards her, the need to apologize, to make it up to her somehow. How could he have been so cruel? To hurt her so badly, her! The love of his life, the one person who had already been through so much. It was his duty to make her life lighter. But all he managed to do was make it harder, add more troubles, more complications. More responsibilities.

"What do you really want?" she asked again.

"I don't know," he replied. "I never…it wasn't meant to be like this."

"Like what?" she touched his broken arm, caressed it gently and softly.

"When you've lived your whole life with something and then it's taken away," Vilkas tried to explain. "You feel lost. Like half your brain is missing. Like you fell and hit your head and something was crushed. Destroyed for good. And then there's, of course, the promise I made. To Kodlak. That I would endure the hunger, I would give it up. That it was not the way we were meant to be."

"And you feel like you should keep that promise?" Sura asked. "That you owe it to him?"

"Don't I?" Vilkas frowned. "When you make a promise, you're supposed to abide by it. Like I promised…"

He grew silent. Yes, he remembered. Like I promised to you, that I would stand by you, now and forever. And I couldn't do it. Even when you pulled me from the gates of Oblivion and back to your arms, I still couldn't do it. How weak could I be? How low could I fall? Never mind anything that happened to me, all the pain and agony. That shouldn't have mattered. I should still be able to be strong enough, for you.

"If you had the chance to take it back, what would you do?" Sura asked.

Vilkas stared at her and hope, guilt and betrayal all fought battles inside his heart. He didn't know the answer. His honor would demand him to kill it if only to keep his promise to Kodlak. His gratitude wanted to save it because it had spared his life and protected him with its body and with its fierce spirit. And his guilt only told him one thing. That he should fall to his knees and crawl before her, beg for her forgiveness and lay his life on her hands.

"Right," Sura nodded when he couldn't give her answer. "Then there's only one thing we can do then. Let's go. The sooner we get there, the better."

She grabbed a small satchel from the shelf and walked to the door. When Vilkas didn't follow her, she smiled and took his hand. It was an assuring smile and he allowed her to lead him on. Somehow he believed that she had all the answers, that she would know what to do, wherever they were going.

He was surprised when she led him out of the city and into the stables. And when memories began to pile on top of each other, he allowed them to come. He didn't deny them anymore, his grief over Abaccus and the years he had spent training his stallion. His relationship with his horse had been unique and special and he genuinely believed he would never find a finer horse. Sura brought out her own mare and a grey gelding for him and before they left, she pointed out in one of the stalls. He saw a small, black-haired foal with white socks in each of its calves. He smiled when he saw it and Sura was happy to see that smile, such warm and genuine expression on his face. Maybe I have to get it for him, she thought. Yes, Abaccus was long gone but his calming caring nature would allow him to nurture another animal child as lovingly as he had raised his black stallion. He would be patient and kind. All they had to do now was the find the missing parts and make him complete again.

They left the plains and for the next day, they traveled towards the north. Sura didn't tell him where they were going and he didn't ask. He trusted her completely and he was relieved when he didn't need to provide the answers to the countless questions that were hanging in the air. They stopped the only couple of times, to eat, to rest, to feed the horses and then continued on. When the air grew colder and the wind began to whirl snow around, he glanced at her. She was wearing very little, a thin tunic, leather pants, and soft boots. At one point he urged her to put more clothes on. She smiled and told him she wasn't cold. It was the only thing he said during the whole journey.

She led him on as if she knew the way, she didn't deviate from her path once. Like she'd been there hundreds of times, knew the area like the back of her hand. It was hard to believe, to see her so confident now. In his memories, she was still that shy, small girl, who would blush like a red tomato, just because he looked at her a little longer. She was, of course, his Sura...but molded, merged, evolved into this strong woman. The same little girl was still hiding somewhere inside her, sometimes she popped up giggling and goofing around. He loved the girl and he loved this woman. He loved and admired what she had become. And he wished he could match her, grow like her and overcome this problem that ate him alive. The night arrived and the sky was dark and covered with steel clouds when they finally reached their destination. Nestled in the icy tundra, covered and almost unseen because of the heavy snowfall.

Ysgramor's tomb.

Vilkas had never actually been there, he remembered nothing of the journey he made with J'Ziir, Farkas, and Aela. He marveled at the place and once again the guilt hammered him hard. He wasn't worthy of this place. He didn't deserve to be brought here, to walk these sacred halls, to desecrate this divine tomb. But he didn't have time to battle with his guilty conscience, because Sura led him straight into the main chamber and they stood there, in front of the fire pit. He had a completely another battle ahead of him.

"Here you have a choice," she began and with the snap of the fingers, she brought the flames alive. "It is entirely up to you now."

"What choice?" he wanted to stop her, delay her. He wasn't ready for this, whatever she meant.

"You can't move on unless you decide," Sura answered and her eyes were filled with love and affection. "I want you to know that I love you no matter what. If you kill it, then you kill it. If you take it back, then so be it. But after today, I don't want you to have any more doubts; I don't want you to feel guilt or pain or remorse."

"What if I make the wrong decision?" Vilkas backed away.

"Don't think of like that," Sura replied. "You do what your instincts tell you. What your heart tells you."

"If I regret it afterward?" he whispered.

"You won't," Sura said. "Because when you make the decision, your heart is at peace. Leave the doubts behind. Leave this nightmare in the past. For us to be able to continue, you need to put an end to this, one way or another. I can't decide it for you, Kodlak can't decide for you. Only you can."

There was nothing else he could say, there was no way he could postpone this any longer. She came to him, took his face into her hands and kissed him. She wrapped her arms around him and held him close for a long time. Then she pulled away from, walked to the fire pit and released the bounding. The spirit of the wolf emerged; she let it go as gently as she captured it. It was glowing blue, calm and careful, cunning and devious and as healed and strong as the man who used to be its master. It didn't attack, it showed no aggression. It stood there, watching, waiting, listening.

"You decide its fate," Sura looked at it and said with a calm voice. "And then you walk out of here and come back to me."


	95. Chapter 95

**95.**

She walked outside the tomb and sat down, on the edge of the stone ring. This time she didn't mind waiting. This time it was worth it. And she meant every word she said down there. Whatever he would decide, she would accept it. No questions asked. They would learn to live together again, somehow. She looked up. The sky was beginning to clear and she saw the first glimpse of the Aurora's. Those fiery flames in the sky meant so much to her. They shone their light down on her on her darkest nights, they comforted her when she felt like the whole world stood against her. She smiled and her mind slowly drifted back to that time when she still lived in Dragonsreach. On those nights when she couldn't sleep – no,  _wouldn't_  sleep, because of her dreams.

There was a time when she thought that those dreams were the worst thing that could happen to her. What a naïve, little child she had been. Living sheltered inside those sturdy walls. She had her studies, she had Farengar and the Jarl and Lydia. And even Eorlund with his magical hands that worked steel like it was the easiest material in the world. And somehow, in some weird, awkward way, she had Vilkas as well. A distant dream, something she could barely dare to think about. She hid her feelings well because she was always afraid that someone might know, catch a glimpse of what that pitiful, orphan Khajiit girl really wanted. That she dared to dream of loving a man that was so high and noble and so much above her. If it wasn't for J'Ziir, she would probably still be cooped up in her cozy little bubble of hazy daydreams.

She thought about her complicated brother. There were still times when she wondered was it really true. Was he really her brother. But he must have been since she clearly remembered him now. And her heart recognized him. Accepted him. And loved him, dearly. As his broody face popped into her mind, she looked back, over the mountains. The constant worry returned, the same feeling of anxiety that she had felt not only for herself and for Vilkas, but for him. He was alright, had to be. She wouldn't allow him to leave her again. It was not something she was willing to experience. He hadn't been gone that long but long enough for her to start worrying. It was strange how time had changed them both, how it had forced them to face their past, reunite and take responsibility. How this rugged, cruel land crushed them, picked them up, molded them into something stronger and then shown them that no matter what they faced, it was possible to survive. She sighed and smiled. Finally, she had time to think back and remember. Remember all the things she was grateful for. Remember all that these months, these weeks of misery and grief had taught her, given her.

J'Ziir. Lydia. Brynjolf. And Vilkas. All here, all alive. And if it was up to her, she would fight to keep them all here and alive.

As the clouds slowly drifted away and the stars came into view, her smile slowly faded. A rusty door opened somewhere in the back of her mind, creaked open and told her that she might have forgotten something. She shook her head. No, what did I forget? she asked herself. And then it came a quiet whisper that crawled from the open door, another nightmare ready to take hold and squeeze. She remembered now. Something her father told her.  _Return to us._  Those three words sent shivers down her spine and caused her stomach to twist into knots. Why? she wondered. There should be nothing to worry about. No reason to suddenly feel this nervousness.

_"Make her return. If she dies, he won't survive either. Something he ignores...Lydia...Lydia...Lydia..."_

Her father's voice echoed in her mind and his words made her worried, scared. That something worse than this might be still ahead, lurking behind the corner. That this feeling of happiness was just a simple trick, lulling her into a false sense of security.

_"A dead woman, covered in blood. Laying on the stone floor while someone very close shouted her name, over and over again, desperately."_

She flinched as the vision suddenly came to her. It frightened her and she had to rub her arms to chase the goosebumps away. She had seen the same thing before. Just before…Kynesgrove. Yes, when she and Vilkas passed Windhelm, on their way to Riften. Why…why now? she asked and froze when the answer popped into her mind. Connected. They were connected. Her father's words and that vision. But why? She didn't recognize that woman…right? ( _Lydia. Lydia. Lydia._ ) It wasn't anyone she knew…surely it wasn't! She was terrified and wanted to turn and run away from it, but at the same time, she knew she could lean it and watch closely, see the details if she wanted to. She turned her head away, didn't want to know. Her mind refused to know it, and she shook her head. Deny it! No, don't bring it any closer! Don't see it!

_"Make her return. If she dies, he won't survive either!"_

_I don't know who she is!_ I don't know who he is. This had nothing to do with me. Nothing! Don't make me take this on my shoulders, not this as well. If I know it…if it see it, there is no way to stop it from happening! I don't want to! I don't want to! She got up and ran to the shore. Her legs felt weak and she tumbled, fell down and scrambled her way back up. She felt like she was running in a dream, not being able to go fast enough. But where could you run from yourself? She couldn't well enough detach her head and leave her thoughts and memories behind. But if she could, she would gladly leave this knowledge, she would be thrilled to bury it again and forget it all the same. The cold wind brushed her hair and blew through her thin clothes but she didn't feel anything. It cooled her cheeks and slowly, slowly it washed the images away. The feeling remained, however. That unfairness of it all. Hopelessness. She knew now and could do nothing. If her father knew as well, what did he mean?

_Make her return_.

She walked on the beach for a long time just to rid herself of these visions, to push them back for now. She walked and walked and walked until her feet were aching and her back was sweaty and her arms were numb because of the wind and snow. By the time she climbed back on top of the tomb's stone circle, she almost managed to forget it. But she knew the door to that particular memory – a vision! - wasn't shut for good. She could call it back anytime and look closer. Much, much closer. And see the things she tried so hard to deny, so hard to unsee. No, she shook her head and sat back down. She would not go there. Not now and not ever. It didn't mean anything, she didn't have her father's gifts when it came to seeing the future. She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, in and out. In and out. Slowly and steadily. She listened to her heart and thankfully it started to find its regular, steady rhythm again. It helped and she began to hear other things than her own maddening, raving thoughts. The wind. And the ocean. Waves crashing into shore. And horkers honking to each other somewhere down on the beach. Tucked together in their small family groups.

She managed to calm herself down. That moment wasn't here just yet, but she would have to face it, she knew it. But until then, she was willing to forget. She straightened her back and realized that it must have been hours since the sky was once again getting lighter. The clouds rolled overhead, covering the sky like a grey, dull blanket. Not a single ray of the sun penetrated the thick mass. The wind died down and the morning was eerily quiet. Then she heard footsteps from somewhere below her, coming from the tomb. She didn't need to turn around to know it was him. So it was done. He made his choice and she wasn't going to judge him, no matter what he decided.

He emerged from the tomb, his head hung down and his shoulders hunched. He didn't stop, didn't slow down as he climbed up to her. He lifted his head and his eyes were filled with tears. She caressed his cheek, wiped the tears away and hugged him. Then she nodded and gave him an assuring smile. She reached out her hand and he hesitated for a moment. Then he smiled back, but his smile was insecure and uncertain. His eyes weren't smiling and they were still filled with grief. After a short moment, he took her hand and squeezed it.

"You came back," she said.

"You told me I shouldn't regret it," Vilkas replied. "That's why it took so long. And I know I shouldn't, but…"

"You won't," Sura assured him. "It will pass."

He nodded. He wanted to believe her; somehow she seemed to know these things and she said them with such certainty, that it didn't leave much room for doubt. And right now, she was the strongest one of the two of them. "So, now what?" he asked her.

"Now," she smiled. "We go home."


	96. Chapter 96

**96.**

Their journey back to Whiterun was filled with silence. An hour after another passed and only the wind howled around them. Sura knew Vilkas needed time to think, time to tell himself that what he did was the right thing, that he should not regret it, that he should come to terms with his decision. So she allowed him the time he needed. But this time she wasn't about to wait forever. They arrived in Whiterun late in the afternoon. The day was starting to fade away and she was feeling tired after the long journey. She knew Vilkas wanted to talk to her and tell her about his decision. But he didn't need to reveal what he had done; she could sense it all, feel it from him.

Heading back to Jorrvaskr didn't seem like a good idea. There were a lot of people around and they could be interrupted countless times. What she wanted was for them to adjust to each other again, find what they had before all of this happened and try to recover and save what they could. And for that, they needed some time alone. Without Farkas playing his lute on the other side of the bedroom wall or Torvar stumbling down the hall half drunk and half-naked, singing merrily about the time when the Dragonborn came. Momentarily she considered renting a room from the Inn but Hulda's place was always filled with people as well and Mikael's voice was loud and honestly, she didn't want to hear him sing about the Dragonborn anymore than Torvar did. As she jumped off her mare, she glanced up the plains and remembered a small place she once discovered while tracking down the Silver-Hand. It wasn't far and it was peaceful, beautiful and quiet. No one else knew about it and she imagined they could stay there as long as they needed. Farkas was able to keep things under control a few days more, she figured.

She turned to Vilkas and saw him patting the small, black foal they saw when they left Whiterun couple of days ago. He was smiling and his happy expression made Sura's heart beat a little harder. He is so beautiful, she thought. She knew that men in Skyrim would prefer the word handsome over beautiful, but it was the only word she could think of, watching him now, caressing the foal with his strong, gentle hands. She knew how soft those hands could be, how pleasant their touch felt and she sighed when she remembered their time back in Riften when everything was still so perfect between them. He caught her staring, smiled and Sura blinked. Suddenly she felt very warm and mushy like she sat down too long in one place and couldn't just jump up and run. She was baffled, but at the same time very pleased. Maybe talking wasn't the only thing in Vilkas' mind. She cleared her throat, walked to him and knelt down beside him. The foal neighed and nudged her in the face and she laughed.

"Sorry, little one," Sura shook her head. "I don't have any carrots for you."

As she caressed the foal's soft fur, she felt his eyes on her. She turned and met his gaze. They sat there, together, the little, black foal between them and they smiled at each other. And they both felt like they were home after a long and difficult journey. Yes, Sura though. This was an experience they would take and turn, use it strong bedrock where to build their home. They could grow from this, learn from this and eventually continue, move on from this.

"I missed you," he finally broke the silence. "But I didn't know how to tell you."

"I know," Sura whispered.

"And I'm sorry," he continued. "So, so sorry..."

"There's nothing to be sorry for," she took his hand and placed it against her cheek.

"Yes, there is," Vilkas lowered his eyes and took a deep breath. "There are so many things I need to tell you, but I don't know where to start."

"Let's start by walking," Sura said and stood up. "I want to show you something."

She reached out her hand and he took it after moment's hesitation. She knew the way and they walked calmly across the plains. He was still silent but this time it wasn't awkward. It was funny how one could miss such simple interactions. Just walking, side by side. It was all they needed at this moment. A warm wind whispered around them and carried with it smells that they both knew and cherished. The distinctive scent of the nature, pine needles and the fragrant smell of the wildflowers. Smoke from a nearby hunter's camp that reminded them of home and the mead hall of Jorrvaskr. And sounds, all the different voices of the forest and the tundra. They listened and enjoyed those for a while.

"Did you know?" Vilkas asked after some time. "What I chose?"

"Yes," Sura nodded. "That's why I didn't ask. Have you come to terms with it?"

"I…I think so," Vilkas sighed. "No…not sure yet."

"Alright," Sura smiled. "Give it some time."

"Where are we going?" Vilkas asked and glanced back. They had crossed the plains and Whiterun was now only a silhouette in the distance. He didn't like going out this far when the night was coming. They weren't defenseless but he didn't want to put her in danger, not now when everything was finally starting to fall back into its place.

"We're almost there," she said and led him up a small path. "See, here it is!"

A tiny cave was hidden behind gigantic rock formations and dense bushes. Sura hurried her steps and Vilkas ran after her just make sure she wouldn't stumble into any trouble in her excitement, although after everything that had happened, it was kind of hard to believe. She grabbed his arm and pulled him through the narrow corridor and suddenly they were in a large, open cavern. It was like a small valley, hidden between the mountains filled with large trees and a small, clear stream that rippled down the mountainside. Vilkas saw remnants of fire near the pond and Sura seemed to know the area.

"You've been here before?" he asked her and looked around.

"Yes," she knelt down and began to gather some twigs and branches. "I spent many nights in here. I found this place when I…when I was looking for you."

Vilkas swallowed; there was a lump in his throat that wouldn't go down. Farkas told him a little but even he didn't know what Sura had gone through during the time when he was missing. And he wasn't sure, did he want to know. Or was she eager to share it with him? He decided he wouldn't pressure her. It was his time to wait now.

"Go ahead," Sura said. "What do you want to know?"

He looked at her. No, more like stared her. It was strange how she suddenly saw through him, picked up every thought he had and pulled them out like a fish caught in a string. And all he saw in her was suffering and pain he didn't want to see. He wanted to wipe it all away, comfort her, and support her. But he felt like his Sura had grown too strong, she didn't really need him anymore. There were no monsters that would scare her, nothing he could protect her from. She had seen it all, the bad, the ugly, the disgusting. The worst things Skyrim had to offer. This land had shown her its ugliest side and she took it, twisted it and turned it to her own advantage.

"What is this place?" Vilkas asked since that was the only thing he really could ask. Everything else was so still too close, too raw to touch and pull out. He figured there would be time for that later.

"I don't really know," Sura answered. "There's a shrine of Talos up there, but I mainly remained in this area, near the pond. If you want to take a tour, go ahead."

Vilkas nodded and headed down the small path that led up the shrine. Sura looked after him and sighed. She knew he felt kind of useless. She had become too independent for him. The woman Vilkas wanted, someone he could protect and keep safe, no longer existed. The situation had turned ironically upside down. It was her who saved his life, not just once but twice. She wondered could she discover the more feminine side of herself, could she resemble the woman he clearly seemed to look for.

While waiting, she started the fire and searched for some of the things she left behind the last time she spent the night in this place. She found two tankards, a couple of bottles of mead and a dry piece of bread. She tossed that away but kept the mead. Maybe there was something else they could eat. She wasn't feeling too hungry, despite the long journey and everything that happened. She sat down and watched the flames, how the hot fire consumed the dry branches. Fire was such a cleansing element, she thought. It burned away all the old and left room for new, fresh things to grow. Maybe it was time for her and Vilkas to burn down some of the old and plant new things that would carry them forward, stronger than ever. She listened to his footsteps. She heard him go around the whole area, maybe he stopped at the shrine and exchanged a few thoughts with the Nordic man-god, then he continued on and she raised her eyes just when he emerged from the other side of the cave. Like once before, he was holding two dead rabbits in his other hand and Sura smiled.

"You're back," she said and wondered did he still remember. "And not empty-handed. Want me to cook something out of those poor little things?"

"Give it your best shot," he replied and Sura saw a smile on his face. He remembered and that memory was a good place to start. A pleasant place where he had no trouble of settling in to. "I'm no Gourmet."

"At least you know who to blame when you get food poisoning," Sura continued.

"It didn't happen before," Vilkas said. "I doubt it will happen now either."

He laid his weapon and his shield down and sat next to the fire, leaning against a big rock. He watched while she skinned the rabbits, her hands worked quickly and efficiently. He wished he could just sit like this, watching her for the rest of his days. This comforting silence, this companionship, was enough for him at this moment. She sat there, not too close and not too far. He could see her with his eyes at any moment, he could reach out his hand and touch her if he wanted to. And he did. He wanted to pull her closer and embrace her. But more than that he wanted to know something else. Had she already turned? No matter how much he wanted to believe that this woman was just his Sura, the simple, beautiful, innocent Khajiit girl he'd fallen in love all those years ago, he knew that wasn't the case any longer. In order to come to terms with his own decision, he wanted to know what she was. And could they live together, not just in their everyday life, but in their other life too?

"What was it like?" he finally asked and she glanced at him. "Turning."

"Painful," she replied and continued to skin the rabbits. "You should know, right."

"Yes," he muttered and looked up at the night sky. "Become the wolf a hundred times, a thousand times and it never gets any easier. While turning, you wish it's all over, you wish you could die just to get rid of the pain. But as the wolf emerges, you forget it all. There's only the thrill of the hunt, the speed, and the power. It's intoxicating. Addicting."

"How come you couldn't control it any longer?" she asked him.

"They wanted the wolf, not the man," he said. "So they kept calling it out, again and again. They thought they could kill it with torture, satisfy their own hatred by tormenting it. I don't know why they didn't just cut my head off straight away. But as they pulled it out repeatedly, they disrupted the cycle somehow. It became an endless loop, from a beast to a man and back. I think, in the end, it was too hungry to let me come forward anymore. It's the hunger that really drives us. Can you feel it?"

At first, Sura didn't answer. But then she realized that they needed honesty between them, there were too many things left unsaid. She tied the rabbits above the sizzling fire and looked at him straight in the eyes. She nodded. She could feel it, but it wasn't very loud, it wasn't demanding or suffocating. Like Vilkas said, an itch somewhere in the back of your skull, in a place where you couldn't reach.

"Why did you do it?" Vilkas asked. If there was something in this world he wanted to protect her from, it was the curse. But now she had submitted herself to it willingly and he had failed in even that regard.

"I owed it to Kodlak," Sura explained. "It was him who saved me all those years ago. It was his alpha that guided me through the forest. How could I repay that by killing it?"

He listened while she told him the story. She told him everything she remembered, everything she could. Starting from the morning when Ulfric came with his men, how he and J'Ziir where playing hide and seek and how she hid in the wagon. How J'Ziir stared at her when she was about to jump out, ordered her to stay hidden. How she saw her parents die, how everything was burned and how J'Ziir was dragged away. And then they used the poor old family horse for arrow practice until it was delirious with pain and horror and galloped right off the cliff dragging the wagon behind it. How she woke up in the middle of the night, wet and alone and miserable, blocking it all off and holding her dirty stuffed rabbit with both hands.

And then Kodlak found her. No…his  _wolf_  found her. And it didn't attack. She reached out her hand and touched its fur and it protected her from all the dangers of the forest and led her to a road nearby. The Jarl, his brother, and his brother's wife and daughter were traveling from Riften to Whiterun and that's where they found her. That's how she ended up in Whiterun. She grew silent and Vilkas began to understand what she meant. But that also begged the question, did Kodlak knew already then what she would become? There was no way of finding the answer now since Kodlak was gone. But he was inclined to believe that the old Harbinger knew more than he led on.

"Why didn't you kill it?" Sura suddenly asked and yanked Vilkas out his thoughts. Of course, he realized she knew what he did. Why was he so surprised? No, he wasn't surprised. But he was unprepared to face it, not ready to accept it yet.

"I wanted to," Vilkas admitted. "I knew how to do it, which is strange. There wasn't any reason why I wouldn't kill it. I always followed Kodlak. I felt like he was always right. He wanted to be cleansed so it wanted it too. An honorable Nord warrior cannot be distracted by the hunt all the time."

"And yet," Sura met his eyes. "You took it back."

"I did," Vilkas nodded and his voice cracked. "I took it back."

He closed his eyes when he said the words. Just saying it out loud brought something of a relief, like he admitted his crime and was willing to accept the punishment for it. Finally, it would be over, he thought. Finally, he would be able to make amends and live with it. Accept whatever it brought with it and maybe one day, meet Kodlak, as a wolf or a man and beg for his forgiveness. But he would live with the consequences, no matter what. He opened his eyes and Sura smiled at him.

"Feeling better?" she asked.

"It's back now but I feel…strange," Vilkas said. "Like it's not really there at all."

"What was it like before?" Sura took the cooked rabbits off the fire and set them aside to cool off. She opened the mead bottles and handed the other to him.

"Constant battle," he replied and took a long gulp from the bottle. "Endless dreams of the hunt. This is almost peaceful. Too calm for my liking."

She gave him some meat and they ate in silence. He released the buckles from his armor, pulled his cuirass off and placed it next to his sword and shield. Then he once again leaned against the rock and sighed.

"What do you think of me being the Harbinger?" she whispered and he heard the anxiety in her voice. He knew that this was one of the obstacles between them that had to be laid aside.

"I don't mind," he replied without hesitation. "Kodlak chose you. And from what I've seen so far, I have no reason to doubt you. Why would I? According to Farkas, you held everything together when things were practically falling apart."

He answered like an underling, like a companion. A Shield-Brother. Someone who was looked up to and who's opinion one had to ask when the question of the next leader came up. And since he knew his opinion didn't matter anymore, he answered diplomatically. But he didn't answer like a husband. He didn't answer like a lover. And that bothered her. His answer was too polite, too careful. He was afraid of giving his real opinion so he only gave an opinion of someone who didn't want to cause ripples, didn't want power struggles inside the Companions.

"He chose me," Sura admitted. "But would you have chosen me?"

"I did," Vilkas reminded her.

"As your wife," Sura said. "But you didn't choose me to be the next leader of the Companions. Yet you are still married to me. And now I am the Harbinger. So, how do we solve that problem?"


	97. Chapter 97

**97.**

"It's not a problem," Vilkas assured her. "Kodlak chose you."

"It is a problem," Sura persisted. "I want to know your honest opinion. You're hiding behind Kodlak's back. You keep telling me that he chose me but that's not your  _opinion_. It's a decision which was made and you feel obligated to stand by it."

Of course, it was true and he knew it. The truth was that he didn't know what he felt. Yes, Sura was the Harbinger. And yes, there was nothing he could do about even if he wanted to. He didn't want to displace her, he couldn't think of a better choice for the position, himself included. But that was not the reason he was not fully behind her. It was his need, his sincere wish to take all her burdens and carry them for her. And her being the Harbinger he knew well enough he could not do that. But of course, all his thoughts were unnecessary as well. She had conquered everything in her path, there was nothing left to protect her from.

"I just…wanted you to be safe," Vilkas finally said. "I wanted to give you happiness, not grief or responsibility. I wanted that you could live your life the way you wanted, not have dozens of duties and heaps of problems to solve."

"So what do you think?" Sura asked. "Honestly."

"It's not something I would have chosen," Vilkas looked at her. "If I had been there, I would have suggested someone else, maybe even taken the burden myself. But I need you to understand something. I don't say this because I think less of you. I say it because I don't want to hear you staying up the nights, sitting before your desk, reading a plea for help one after another, and thinking of others when you should think of yourself. You don't eat when you should, you don't sleep when you should. That's not I want."

Sura thought of his words. The reason she had stayed up the night was really not because of her new position. It was because of him. Him and the wolf. Those two things kept her up at night. She was willing to admit that being the Harbinger required much more of her attention than she imagined but it was nothing compared to the worry she carried inside her heart because of him.

"I couldn't sleep because of you," Sura told him. She decided that honesty was still the best way to go. Whatever he asked, she would tell him.

"Me?" Vilkas flinched.

"You pushed me away," Sura continued and he sighed. "You didn't talk to me, you didn't tell me what was wrong nor was there anything I could have done. Farkas was the only person you allowed inside your room. What was I supposed to think? That you didn't love me anymore? That you'd rather I leave?"

"Never!" Vilkas was quick to answer. "No…no!"

"Then you have a chance to explain now," Sura said. "I'm here and I can listen."

At first, he didn't know where to start. Should he start from the moment he woke up in her room and though he was still living in the same dream his imagination produced, just experiencing some weird, twisted nightmare his broken mind showed him. Or should he start from the thing he remembered, crawl through those horrific hallways of death, those narrow corridors that the nightmares always dug inside his mind during the nights. Yes, it was best to go back and at least try. After all, she had done the same. She told him about the day she lost everything, her family, her home, her whole childhood. And he saw how painful it was for her to go back in that time and remember all the details but she pushed through.

So he began. From the moment he left her in Riften. That was the easiest part, nothing had yet happened. After that came the snowy mountain path and the attack. That was still describable by words. Remembering Abaccus and its poor, undeserved faith rendered him silent for a while. Sura didn't pressure him or ask questions. She allowed him to go it through with his own pace. From her own experience, she knew how hard it was, to remember everything. It was unbearable, inhumane to make someone live through such things again. But she believed it was part of it all. Part of the healing.

He continued and his words became erratic and unstable, his voice low and barely audible. Nights and days became one, time lost its meaning. It was an endless circle of pain and agony. He jumped from one day to another, taking moments from here and there and told her what happened, the bits and pieces he could remember. It wasn't pretty and far from pleasant. Her heart became heavy with grief and pity but her mind was swimming in a sea of ugly monsters. She had never been this enraged; never so happy to know she hunted them all down. If they weren't all dead, she might have gotten up right this moment, hunt them down and take revenge. She didn't realize how closely she resembled her brother and his endless need to make things right.

But she couldn't move, she could only sit and listen to Vilkas. He went on and on, more ugly details, more horrific events one after another. Sura felt like screaming, she wanted to make him stop but she promised, she promised! So she bit her lip, swallowed the tears and allowed him to talk. At this point, talking wasn't exactly what he was doing. He was throwing it up, gagging it out like his lungs were filled with sewage. A terrifying mess of nightmares and reality, all mixed together in tangled clutter, like fisherman's net. Except this catch didn't rise from a beautiful, clear lake surrounded by high mountains. It rose from the deepest, darkest corners of his mind and the net was filled with disgusting, rotting things that wiggled and tried to grab his arms and pull him down with them.

Finally, he ran out of words. They sat there, opposite to each other, both exhausted, tired, out of breath but somehow cleansed. She opened another bottle and handed it to him. He took it and drank like he was dying of thirst. He was completely empty now. Empty but feeling better. The dull ache from his chest was fading. He felt tears behind his eyes and as he leaned his head back and closed his lids, few drops forced their way out and dripped down his cheek. He didn't bother to wipe them away.

"You once told me something," Sura's voice reached him. "You said:  _hold onto me like you are doing now and I will never leave your side._ "

"I remember," Vilkas opened his eyes and when he looked for her, she was sitting next to him. He hadn't even heard her move.

"Well," she wrapped her arms around his waist and placed her head on his chest. "It's your turn to hold on now."

He sniffled and pulled her closer, held her tight and buried his face into her warm, soft hair. He didn't hide his tears anymore and to her, they were a relief. He was able to cry after all that and it gave her hope. His whole body was shaking and she carried him through all of it, held him tight and pushed back her own pain, just for this one moment. There would be time for her to cry later, but right now she needed to remain strong for him. Eventually, there was nothing left and he rubbed his face and took a deep breath. She remained by his side and when he looked at her, she placed a soft kiss on his lips.

"It's over now," she whispered. "Leave it behind."

His throat was dry and his voice was hoarse. His nose filled with mucus and he stood up, walked to the pond and washed his face. The cool water felt wonderful on his hot skin. He saw his own reflection from the clear surface of the pond. It was him, complete now. His grey eyes turned to gold and suddenly something called out to him. Like an old friend calling his name from someplace far, far away. He felt the need to follow that call and he stood up and turned. His wife was standing there, in the mouth of the cave and her eyes were burning like his, glowing like the brightest stars in the night sky of Skyrim. She reached out her hand and smiled.

"Run with me," she whispered and that's all the encouragement his wolf needed.

They left the cave, two people sprinting out in the open. Completely taken over by the need to be together, the need to run, the need to feel the wind and the snow and the nature around them. They ran to the shadows of the trees and as their transformation begun, they clung to each other, held on and gave each other strength. They felt the pain, the unnatural change from a man to a beast when their bodies were too tight and small to accommodate these creatures of the night. And then there was nothing else but the speed and unification of the two alphas.

She was white as the snow and he was black as the night. While she ran on all fours, he rushed next to her. His hand was mutilated and wounded but it didn't slow him down. She could see the joy, the pure excitement in his eyes. And she knew that for the first time ever, he was really united with his wolf spirit. It was the wolf that ran, the wolf that was in control but this time he wasn't afraid to hand the control away. He saw everything. He heard everything and smelled everything. The snow, the wind, the frost. The rugged terrain below him. The bark of the trees when his claws scratched them and left deep marks on their sides. It was the wolf that ran but it was the man who enjoyed.

And during all of it, his mate ran next to him. He saw her as the woman and as the wolf. Stronger than he had ever imagined. She had risen above everything and taken her destiny in her hands. She took the steps he was always so afraid to take and she led him down the path they new following. And there were no more questions in his mind. No more doubt or regret. He loved this woman, loved this wolf and was committed to love this life. He would never again look back and wallow in self-pity, considering ifs and maybes and ask over and over again why he wasn't saved from this agony and pain. He would never again feel regret and need to apologize for the decisions he made because he made them together with her. And in the end wasn't that what mattered most to him. Her acceptance, her approval. Her love. Her life. His choice, Kodlak's choice. And he was sure if the old man was watching them from Sovngarde, he might have a felt mournful for their fate but he knew it was their choice.

The night went on and they ran, enjoying each other's company and the nature of the land around them. She looked at him and this time she really saw him, not just the fading reminder of his spirit. He growled and she answered. She felt like she could've run forever by his side, remain as the wolf for eternity but they were forced to stop when they reached the Sea of Ghosts. The cold wind whirled the snow around and the clouds were racing in the dark night sky. Their blood was pumping hot and hard and their breath turned into steam in the cold air. She sniffed the air and when she heard voices, she snarled and he replied. From behind the trees and the piles of snow, a small group of Thalmor made their way down the road, a young Nord imprisoned between them. Her mate growled and she felt it as clear as he did. The hunger settled in. The lust took over.

She didn't make the decision this time. He instigated the hunt and she followed him, after all, he had done so hundreds of times. This time she didn't pull back because she needed to see this, experience it at least once. This night had been all about honesty and she wanted to be honest about this as well. Accept that her wolf wasn't just a harmless little animal, but a creation of a Daedric Lord, a beast of violence and death. Later she hoped she didn't need to witness it and decided that's where she ended and the wolf began. She was willing to accommodate the hunger and satisfy its need. But she would always be the one who chose the meal, no innocents would be slaughtered because of the wolf's hunger. The prisoner was let go and she was worried was he able to live on without having a heart attack. As they left the scene, he was still sitting on the ground with wild, empty eyes in the midst of ripped clothing, splatters of blood, torn limbs and deadly silence.

Their hunger satiated they turned and this time Vilkas took the lead. She didn't mind and followed him through the forest and mountains. Just before the dawn, they reached the plains of Whiterun. The sun was starting to appear above the mountains and she knew they didn't have that much time left. She hurried him on and they crossed the plains towards the small cave from where they left earlier that night. Just before they reached their destination, the world suddenly turned upside down. The sky darkened, the Throat of the World plunged inside a huge cloud that resembled a severe thunderstorm. They heard voices, shouts, roars and horrifying rumble, like the mountain itself was about to collapse.

While still in her wolf form, she knew instantly what was happening. Her brother was somewhere up there, in the midst of all that. A cold grip of fear squeezed her heart and she gasped. The wolf growled and sensed her anxiety. It was confused because it was not used to feel fear and the only way it knew to convey it was by howling out loud. She let out one miserable lonely cry. She felt how her body began to change but she couldn't take her eyes away from the dark cloud that enveloped the mountaintop. Even when her bones began to resettle, the joints and tendons cracked back in their right places, when the pain brought her down to her knees and her breathing became heavy and cumbersome, she still looked up, through tears and blood, through a hazy, shaken view of the world. She thought she heard his Thu'm echoing down the mountainside but that could have been just wishful thinking. And then she collapsed and he picked her up, embraced her and carried her back inside the cave.

She had felt so good. So complete. Like everything was finally beginning to turn for the better. And as she sat down now in her human form, covered by a warm fur blanket and stared at the smoldering remains of the fire, she knew the times of uncertainty were far from over.


	98. Chapter 98

**98.**

The joy and excitement turned into worry. He thought nothing could get to her after this. How wrong could he still be? Why did he assume that just because she dragged herself through all this, she was fine? That she would take everything that life threw at her with a calm, serene smile on her face. How stupid had he become? He walked to her and sat down next to her. He didn't really know what to say so he just handed her cup of ale. She took it and tried to smile at him. But it was a weak, somber smile that grazed her face and didn't even reach her eyes. Telling her that J'Ziir was fine was not only dishonest but also a meaningless platitude which wouldn't console her in any way. When he couldn't think of anything to say, he just wrapped his hand around her shoulder and tried to comfort her just by being there.

She closed her eyes and leaned against him. She spoke but her voice was weak and filled with invisible tears: "I don't want to think about it. I don't…I don't!"

He wished he could tell her not to think, not to care. To forget it all and let it go. But she wasn't like that and this was J'Ziir they talked about. Vilkas owed his life to her brother and slowly her anxiety and fear began to slither inside his mind as well. What if he wasn't able to defeat the World-Eater? What if he laid there, up on that mountain, dead and broken, with empty eyes that saw nothing? What if…

_"That's enough of such rubbish! When you married Raji, what did I tell you?"_

He flinched and glanced around. The voice didn't come from his mind; it was like J'Ziir was talking right next to his ear. He could clearly hear his raspy voice and almost feel his breath against his skin. As he turned he was sure he'd see his sarcastic, cynical eyes fixed upon him. Yet there was no one around...but his voice was loud and commanding as he spoke.

_"Well, do you remember?"_

"You would break every bone in my body if I hurt her," he mumbled.

_"Good. Anything else?"_

"In times of uncertainty, I need to be there for her," he continued with a low voice. "There's no room for doubt."

_"Well, well. It seems the little pup hasn't lost all his memories. Continue."_

"And if something happens to you," Vilkas muttered under his breath. "I will be the only family she has left. Please, don't leave her."

_"Pfff...not sure I said please, but close enough. You better pull out your charm for this one, wolf. I don't want her thinking about this any longer!"_

And then he was gone. It was strange that Sura paid no attention to him, talking aloud and looking around like someone controlled him, but it only confirmed his suspicions. Vilkas knew J'Ziir had really been there, in some strange form. And if that was the case, he was inclined to believe that the Dragonborn was alright. Maybe hurt or injured, but nevertheless alive. It was J'Ziir after all. The thick-skinned, arrogant, annoying Khajiit who survived years of torture and pain. Vilkas couldn't believe that a dragon could manage to do something that an army of elves wasn't able to accomplish.

"Do you want to go back to Whiterun?" he asked her. "Maybe Lydia knows something we don't."

She stirred, straightened her back and shook her head. "She's probably as worried as I am. She won't be able to tell us anything more."

"She might need you," Vilkas suggested. "Until we find out what happened."

"No," Sura said. "She knows J'Ziir left because of this. And she believes that he will return, eventually. If we went there, she would just tell us to leave. And he has his part of the Eye. Father won't let him die. He'll use all of his own life energy before he lets anything happen to him."

"Alright," he nodded. "Any interest heading back to Jorrvasrk? Farkas must be pulling his hair out at this point. Maybe his beard too, not to mention his chest hair."

He was happy to see her smile at his silly remark. Yes, bring out the old ice brain, a sure trick to get a smile on anyone's face. This time the smile reached her eyes too. She giggled at the thought and Vilkas liked hearing that sound. The image of Farkas pulling out all of his hair caused her to laugh out loud. Because there was a lot of hair. Not just on his head, on his face, on his chest, on his legs and his arms. The man was a walking animal. Vilkas glanced at her and cocked his eyebrow.

"Are you really thinking of my brother right now?" he chuckled. "While I'm sitting right here next to you."

"I just can't get the image out of my head," Sura bit her lip and tried to control herself. It didn't work and she burst out laughing all over again. "Him pulling out all his hair. I mean…he is quite hairy, right? Not just from his head…but everywhere really."

"Wait a minute!" Vilkas pretended to be insulted. "Are you imagining him naked?"

"Oh, I know I shouldn't," Sura wiped the tears from her eyes. "But he's such a cuddly thing. Are you sure he's a wolf and not a bear?"

"He's cuddly?" Vilkas frowned. "Really? Cuddly? And when exactly have you cuddled him, if I may ask?"

"Don't be an idiot," she punched him in the shoulder but she was still smiling and despite his mild annoyance and jealousy, he was glad he managed to change her mood.

"Let him suffer for a while longer," Vilkas said. "Maybe I can get your mind out his body hair and into something more pleasant."

"Oh, I didn't know Farkas's body hair was that unpleasant," Sura teased him and when he rolled his eyes, she giggled again like a little girl.

Despite her worry, she was beginning to feel a little better. She knew there was nothing she could do to help J'Ziir so her heart settled and her mind told her to leave it for now. If there came a time when she could actually do something for him, then she would act without a doubt. But for now, she wanted to talk to him and know where they stood regarding their relationship.

"How do you feel?" she asked him.

"Weird," he replied. "But great. I have never experienced the wolf quite so personally. I always felt we were two different beings. Now we were one the whole time."

"Was it the right thing to do?" Sura searched his face. "To keep it?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. "I'm sure of it now."

"Good," she reached out her hand and caressed his face. "Now, there's something I want to give you. I don't want you to lose it ever again, you hear me."

"Ever again?" he repeated. "So I've managed to misplace it before? How strange."

She stood up and pulled the covers tighter around her. She was still undressed and completely naked under the blanket and she could feel the heat and warmth that was emanating from his eyes when he watched her walk to her knapsack. She knelt down and pulled out his wedding ring. She scampered back to him, barely holding on to the covers and as she sat back down, he averted his eyes and cleared his throat.

"Feeling naughty, are we?" she intentionally dropped the other side of the blanket and revealed her shoulder. "Don't worry, this won't take long."

He was afraid to ask what she meant. She was sitting there, the blanket barely covering her breasts and she expected him to listen to her with his ears and understand her with his brain. He'd been aware of her nakedness this whole time but he forced it somewhere back of his mind. Now he was fully aware and her scent embraced her, the familiar odor of lavender and tundra cotton. He looked at the dark spiral that was on top of her other ear and he remembered following it with fingers, remembered how sensitive her ears were. He knew where it ended but he was once again eager to follow its path with his hands and with his mouth.

"Are you listening to me?" Sura punched him softly when he simply stared at.

"Ow!" he rubbed his belly like a little child. "That hurt."

"Well, you better pay attention then!" she ordered him with a stern voice.

"Yes, Harbinger!" he straightened his back and his face grew stern and serious. "Do you have any guidance for me, Harbinger?"

"That sounds weird," Sura sighed. "Can't you call me something else?"

"As you wish, love," he smiled to her. "I'm listening."

She took his right hand and slipped his wedding band to his ring finger. He looked at it and realized he'd forgotten all about it. He thought about Abaccus, thought about his wife, thought about the wolf. And he remembered his wish when he was taken by Silver-Hand. That someone would the find the ring and take it back to her. And here it was, back in his hand, where it belonged.

"You forgot it, didn't you?" she asked and her voice was calm. Dangerously so.

"No..no, I didn't," he tried to defend himself. "Alright, yes. I forgot about it. But how did you get it back?"

"Lydia found it," she told him. "But to be honest…I forgot it too."

"You!" he pretended to be shocked. "You of all people!"

"I didn't know you had this side in you," Sura twisted her lips. "You are usually a lot more serious. Are your trying to grow a sense of humor?"

"Maybe there's something else that's trying to grow," Vilkas grinned.

His overly dramatic voice and his smoldering, seductive gaze caused her to burst out laughing all over again. She shook with laughter and as she tried to punch him in the shoulder again, he was quicker, grabbed her wrist and pulled her into his arms.

"No more hitting, please. It hurts," he told her. "My skin is sensitive, you'll make me bruise."

"When did you become such a dainty lady?" she squirmed but his arms were solid steel bars around her. There was no way she could get out with brute force. Not that she opposed being this close to him or wanted to leave.

"You forgot the ring," he smiled to her. "Maybe there's something else I have to remind you about."

"Only if you tell me what's trying to grow," Sura stretched against him. "Actually, never mind…I think I know the answer."

His strong, warm body against her send pleasant shivers down her back. There was nothing else she forgot, she remembered everything, their time in Riften, and those enjoyable days when they spent every moment of the day together when just a smile or a look was enough to send her heart flying. But there was no reason to tell him that. If he wanted to " _remind_ " her, she would gladly pretend she forgot every little detail.

"Why, I think there are many, many things I've forgotten," she cooed. "Like your hands, and the scent of your skin, the sound of your voice. I would like it if you reminded me about all those."

He looked at her and before the whirlwind of passion swept them away, he made a conscious decision not to regret a single thing from here on out. He chose her. He chose this future. He chose peace instead of nightmares. Her company instead of loneliness. But most importantly, he chose love over everything.


	99. Chapter 99

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains adult content. 18+

**99.**

_Home_. That was the first thing that came to her mind just before he kissed her. She was finally home. It didn't matter where she was, this home didn't have a specific place. As long as it was him and he was here next to her, she was home. She wrapped her arms around him as he pulled the blanket away. The sun was high up in the sky now but they didn't care was it night or day. Being apart for so long and now being finally together, they wouldn't have noticed even the civil war raging outside the cave. Their little hideout was remote and secluded.

He kissed her again and his hands traveled down her back, through the soft fur and warm skin. They glided over familiar curves and edges and as they reached her behind, he brought them slowly back up, only this time from the front. Suddenly he was very aware of his stub, its ugly scars, and its deformities. He saw it now in broad daylight, against her light skin and it looked hideous. It felt almost wrong to touch her with that hand like it could convey the pain and the horrific memories to her, scorch her and cut her with the same ferocity, with same evilness.

She saw his hesitation and reached out, touched his hand it and pressed it against her body. He flinched like the warmth of her skin actually burned him. He was about to pull his hands away but she held him tight against her. As he lifted his gaze, she smiled and her eyes told him that it would be alright. There was no shame here, no reason to knew him and he knew her. There was no question or doubts. Just feelings.

She pushed him down and climbed on top of him. She pressed her forehead against his, whispered that she loved him and slowly kissed him, and kissed him again, never wanting to let him go. She had experienced life without him and it was a sad, miserable existence she never wanted to repeat. He felt her desperation, her need to be as close to him as possible and his desire was equal to hers. She guided his hands down her body, to her breasts, to her stomach and then even lower. He let out a muffled growl when his exploring fingers found her, already warm and tight and wet. He probed her gently, curling his fingers carefully and she gasped for air, arched her back and her eyes grew large and dark and hungry. Momentarily he thought he saw a hint of gold somewhere in the depths of those clear mountain pools but then it faded and it was just her again.

He wanted to tell her he loved her, from now to eternity. He would one day join her in Hircine's hunting grounds, he'd given up his hopes of Sovngarde, and even then, in the realm of the Deadric Prince, he would still love her, look for her and fight for her. Words didn't come even close to what he was feeling and instead of saying such clichés, he wanted to show her, adore her and cherish her. He rolled them over and where his hands touched, his mouth followed, leaving behind a fiery path that ignited the glowing embers to full, roaring flames. His lips found her breasts and he suckled them gently, heard her moans and groans and felt how her fingers buried themselves in his thick, long hair. By the time he reached her stomach, she was already panting and her pale skin was coated with sweat. He wanted to take her then and there, listen to only his own demanding needs, but he was always considerate and gentle. And this woman laying in front of her, trusting and loving, waiting for him...he could never shame or violate her, never be selfish while he was with her.

His mouth traveled lower and he gently nudged her legs apart. He placed his mouth on her, consumed her with fire, his tongue stroking her with long, slow licks. Her taste was familiar and new at the same time. He parted her folds, explored her and coaxed a shattering moan after another from her lips. While she was writhing underneath him, he gently pushed one finger inside her and felt her tight walls convulsing and pressing around him. His thumb found her small, sweet spot and as she wailed, he gnarled against her and his voice sent shivers of pleasure through her core and up her body. He kept his rhythm slow and torturous. He knew this instrument well and remembered exactly how to play it. She was finely tuned and if he touched her right, played the correct notes, the music would be heavenly.

Sura couldn't see anything. Her eyes were wide open but the sky above her was bright and filled with colors and stars that were too intense to stare. She was forced to close her eyes but the sensations continued behind her closed lids. She rose against him, her fingernails buried on each side of his head and she tried to push him away and pull him closer at the same time. His tongue was exploring her; his lips sucked on her, his fingers crooking inside her. She called out the Divines, called out for the Daedric Princes and thanked the ones who decided to spare this man's life. The heat began to pool in her lower stomach and her thighs wanted to clamp shut around his head, she was trying to hold on to something and scratched the ground beneath her. Her head lulled back and she covered her mouth with her hands to stop the mewling, begging sounds that were coming from somewhere deep within her. She shook her head as if there was a way to deny what was coming. He rose up to her, pressed his lips to hers and his wounded hand wrapped around her. His other hand slowly moved deep within her, in and out and she followed his rhythm, stared into his grey eyes. They told her it was all going to be alright. He was here and he loved her and she could let everything go.

His hands drove her over the edge and she tightened around him, her nails pulling bloody scratches across his chest and arms and she was sure she would drown in this ecstasy. She was dissolved with pleasure and he was tormented with desire, to have her but at the same time to please her, to make her come over and over again until there was nothing left but burned down ashes. He pulled his hand away and she quivered under his light touch. She looked at him and caressed the scratches with gentle, regretting motions. She lowered her head and kissed his skin and her lips and her warm breath caused him to grunt.

His fingers stroked her ear and she smiled as he followed the dark stripe with his hand, all the way down her back and at the end of her silky tail. He came back the same way and tickled her earlobe until she drew it against her head. He grinned and watched her, this beautiful woman who at this moments resembled a little girl with that stubborn, almost pouting look on her face. She opened her mouth to say something but he pressed his lips against hers, kissing her in a way she'd never thought possible. She pulled him on top of her and felt him between her legs, hard and hot and heavy. She wrapped her arms around him and cradled him between her thighs. When he finally slid into her, slowly and carefully, she moaned, arched her back and welcomed him with open arms. Nothing in this world felt as good as the sensation of him, connected to her, in the most intimate way possible.

His breath came hard against her ear, his hair brushed her face and his stubble grazed her skin with a kiss he planted on her face, on her neck, and on her breasts. A small rain cloud passed them and the cool water droplets drummed down in his back but he barely noticed. He couldn't get enough of her, but he tried to push his anxiety away, keep himself restrained, not lose control. There was no rush, he told himself but his body was begging for a release while his mind tried to make this last as long as possible. He turned his head so his cheek was flat against hers. She rolled her hips and he groaned again, still trying to hold on. He was powerless against her and she reached out, touched his face and conveyed her thoughts to him. It will be alright. She was here and she loved him and he could let everything go.

He lost himself in her, in this blinding bliss, in this love that surrounded them. He moved on top of her and she met him with every thrust and they were equal in every way. There was no past, no future. Only this moment as her body answered to him, vibrated with him, danced together with him. It was almost maddening, the way he took his time and she had to encourage him with soft moans of pleasure. He pinned her arms above her head and she pressed her body against his muscular, wiry frame. He wouldn't last long, not this first time and she felt his body stiffening, his breath on her neck became faster and hotter. She wrapped her legs around him, he reached down, grabbed her thigh and pulled her toward him as his thrusts became more violent.

Something between a sigh and gasp escaped her lips when that hot, blazing fire swallowed her again. She buried her face against his shoulder and her body shook and trembled around him. Somewhere in the back of her mind she heard his muffled moans and felt his warm release inside her. When she finally managed to pry her eyes open, she saw eagles high up in the sky, circling around and floating in the wind. She felt like she was among them, somewhere high up there, feeling light as a feather. If she spread her arms, she was sure she would take flight without even thinking about it.

"No ice spikes anymore?" Vilkas murmured against her ear. "That's disappointing."

"You should be glad it was not fire," Sura chuckled and toyed with a lock of his hair. "I realize I have to be more careful from now on. Our bedroom is below the main hall in Jorrvaskr. If I sent ice spiked flying through the roof, someone might get hurt."

"Our bedroom," Vilkas's mouth curved into a smile. "I kind of like the sound of that."

"You better," Sura tilted her head. "Because that's where you and I will live from now on. Don't even think about burying yourself in your old room. If you do that, I'm going to remove the door and bring down the walls around you."

"No worries," he pulled her close and hugged her. "I have no such intentions."

"Good," she smiled against his neck. "Now…there's one more thing we need to solve."

"What?" he glanced at her. "I thought we talked everything through."

"We did," Sura nodded. "But how will we get back to Jorrvaskr naked and unseen?"


	100. Chapter 100

**100.**

It turned out that Vilkas' armor was untouched and intact since he removed it before they left the cave. He offered it to her and said he could walk back wearing his breeches and boots. As she slipped inside the armor, she was greeted by the smells of sweat, leather and dried horse manure. She gasped and struggled to get her head through the neckline. She drew a deep breath when her face popped into view and Vilkas smiled. She looked so tiny inside his steel armor, it swallowed her whole and as she took a few steps, she resembled a toddler who only learned to walk a couple of days ago. Hearing his laughter, she shot a stern look behind her. He covered his mouth and pretended he was coughing and cleared his throat.

They left the cave and Sura decided she should bring some extra gear here. She had lost her clothes twice now because of the transformations. She should remember to strip down next time she felt the wolf was taking over. Not in the middle of Whiterun, of course. That would cause an outrage and she and the rest of the Companions would probably be kicked out the city, no matter how much Jarl Balgruuf respected them. He respected honor, not public nudity in the middle of the Market.

He took her hand as they strolled back. The short walk to Whiterun was once again filled with silence, but like last time, they simply enjoyed each other's company. Words were not necessary. She looked up and suddenly remembered what happened at the Throat of the World. The air was cool and clear and she could see the whole mountain, right up to its peak. Nothing was happening there now. The mountain was silent and unmoved by her worry. No trace left of the thick, dark cloud or the noises that earlier rolled down its rugged sides. As she stared at it, Vilkas sensed her worry and squeezed her hand a little harder. She turned to him but didn't smile. In her heart, she believed J'Ziir was alright, had to be. But whatever happened up there still made her heart ache for him. That he had to be there… _all alone_ …no one by his side.

But he is not alone, her heart quietly whispered. Remember, father is there. Making sure nothing will happen to him.

Half an hour later, when they finally entered Jorrvaskr, Farkas was in the exact state Vilkas predicted. Literally pulling out his hair. They were all gathered at the main hall, Aela and Farkas in the middle of the group, both trying to get their voices heard, trying their best to explain what was happening. Once again the Companions were thrust in a crisis, the Harbinger and her husband were missing. When Farkas saw them, he pushed the people aside, stormed over to them, knocking down recruits left and right and his face resembled a thundercloud. Vilkas was about to step in front and meet him but Sura shook her head.

"Do you still have all your chest hair left?" she asked him before he began his raging outburst.

The question confused and distracted him long enough for her to step forward and inform everyone that she was back, nothing major had happened and everyone should resume their duties. Then she began waddling her way downstairs and both Vilkas and Farkas followed her. Aela abandoned her quest of trying to explain where the Harbinger was and rushed after them. She didn't need a long and detailed explanation of what had happened, it was obvious that Sura and Vilkas had found each other and she was content to see it. Maybe finally the stormy tide around the mead hall would calm down.

"Just give me a moment," Sura huffed when they entered her quarters downstairs.

She totted in the bedroom, pulled Vilkas' armor off and grabbed another set of plain, cotton clothes from the chest near the bed. She clearly heard Farkas's eager questions and Vilkas mumbled something, then excused himself by saying that he also needed to get dressed. A few minutes later he came back, dressed in a very ordinary white shirt and a pair of brown leather trousers.

Sura joined them in the main room, sat down and watched them all. "So, what's the problem?"

"Nothing, right now," Aela said. "Since we know that both of you are alive and well."

"Yes, I apologize for that," Sura explained. "I should have told where we were going. But we are here now and I think we should establish some rulers. As I understand you three used to take care of the assignments."

"True," Vilkas nodded. "Four of us…but since Skjor is longer with us, his responsibilities will fall to someone else now."

"Maybe its best if we continue that routine," Sura suggested and waved at her table which was still covered with a messy pile of papers. "So we can help the people that require assistance and keep this family working and functional."

"But the Circle is not complete," Aela's jaw tightened. "Without Skjor…"

"Then let's take someone in his place," Farkas folded his arms. "Simple as that."

"It's not simple!" Aela snapped at him. "He can't be replaced so easily."

"Alright," Sura intervened. "Let's think about that later. We don't have to take anyone in right at this moment. Maybe, for now, I can look into what he was doing and we'll continue from there. Sound reasonable?"

"Fine," Farkas nodded. Aela took a deep breath and finally agreed as well.

"Good, that's settled then," Vilkas said. "We all know our jobs. Now, let's act like we still know what it means to be a Companion."

In a couple of days, things began to flow more smoothly than before. Vilkas moved his things to Sura's quarters and for a while, life in Jorrvaskr continued on better as before. But then, about a week later, Aela woke up in the middle of the night. She couldn't believe her ears. That damn ice brain was playing his lute again. And it wasn't even the sad, melancholy song he used to play before. She felt like she lived in a noisy Inn and somehow Mikael from Hulda's place had moved into Jorrvaskr. It was a cheery tavern tune and she rolled over in her bed and cursed under her breath. The same thing happened the night after and Aela was ready to grab her bow and shoot an arrow through the walls and break his damned lute. When it happened third night in a row, she got up and stormed through the hall. She didn't bother knocking since he was clearly awake. She slammed his door open and there he was, sitting in his underwear, drinking a pint of mead and playing the same tune over and over again.

"What in Oblivion do you think you're doing?" she roared and Farkas yawned.

"Creating a distraction," he replied with a calm voice. "Music is the only thing I can listen to right now. If I stop, you might hear it too. If I'd known this…I would have never gotten them back together. I never brought anyone to my room! I had all the fun at Hulda's!"

"What are you talking about?" Aela grabbed the lute from his hands and as the music stopped, she heard it too. The sounds that Farkas's happy tune was able to cover. Soft moans and low groans, right behind his bedroom wall. A girlish giggle floated over and Aela tossed the lute back in his lap. "Keep playing, ice brain."

The next morning, Farkas crawled out of his room in bad mood. For three nights he hadn't been able to sleep. His wolf didn't give him must rest but he needed his beauty sleep or women avoided him like he was carrying ataxia. During these nights all he could do was play his damn lute, the same old tune over and over again until the noises behind his wall ceased. He wasn't that stupid, sex wasn't shameful or immoral in his eyes. Why he enjoyed it often and with many women at the same time if he felt like it, but Kodlak had always been strict about bringing women to Jorrvaskr. And he respected the old man and met his ladies at Hulda's. But he wasn't sure how he should react to this new situation. Sura was the Harbinger now and she and Vilkas were married and were entitled to share a room and the same bed. Nothing strange about that. The only thing he cursed was the walls in the Jorrvaskr. Yes, made out of stone and they should keep the noise down but clearly stone wasn't strong enough to keep the sounds of pleasure out of his ears. Or it had been way too long since his last trip to Hulda's and he was beginning to hear lustful sounds all around him.

He dragged himself upstairs and when the recruits saw him coming, they moved out of his way and cleared a clean path for him straight for the table. And there they were, the source of his troubles, sitting next to each other, smiling and laughing like two pigeons on a pole. He grabbed a pint of mead and a thick loaf of bread and made his way next to them, slammed his tankard down with such force that most of the drink sloshed out and splattered all over the table. The mead hall grew silent and everyone's eyes were on them.

"What's grinding your gear?" Vilkas looked at his brother and wiped away the sprays of ale from his cheek.

"I'm not a dwarven centurion," Farkas yanked a bite out of his bread. "They have gears and I don't. At least...some of them do..."

"Don't try to think so hard," Vilkas pat his back. "You're not very good at that."

"I'm not good at thinking," he pushed his brother's hand away. "But I'm good at loving. And so are you two. Stop it already! I've been listening to your rutting for three nights in a row! I know love is great and all that, but do it at Hulda's like I always do! That way I can have some sleep."

Vilkas slapped him in the back of the head and grunted but the mountain of muscle was affected very little by his weak punch. "You could have mentioned this sooner! And in a more appropriate place. Not here, in front of everyone."

"How about you move to Vilkas's old room?" Sura suggested. She didn't seem to be embarrassed in the least and her voice was filled with kindness. "It's empty and there's a hallway between."

This idea calmed him down a little and he nodded, munching his bread and taking a gulp from his tankard. Sura offered him some roasted meat and he took it and after a while, he was once again smiling at her. It was hard to stay mad at her. After all, who wouldn't want to share their bed with the Harbinger? He wasn't blind to beauty and he noticed that their new found love only made her more radiant. The way her eyes sparkled, the way she leaned closer to him when he talked. And with such small gestures, she made everyone around her feel special and noticed.

"You better hurry with the move, though," Sura reached out and handed him a bunch of papers that he was supposed to distribute among the recruits. "There are some bandits near Whiterun that need bludgeoning. I figured you wouldn't miss out on an opportunity like that."

"Just point the way!" he roared, grabbed his bread, stood up and was out of the door leading a group of excited followers.


	101. Chapter 101

**101.**

Whiterun was usually a nice, quiet little city. People cared for each other and that's was one of the many reasons Sura liked the place. It was sitting in the middle of the plains, surrounded by beautiful mountains and was the center point of all the roads that led across Skyrim. Merchants from Solitude and Riften often stopped by the city and exchanged their wares.

That sunny, warm afternoon she was walking down the stone stairs of Dragonsreach. She had often gone down these same stairs but as her life changed around her, so did her personality and perspective. The stairs up to Dragonsreach weren't that high and mighty anymore. That afternoon she had dined with Jarl Balgruuf and his court wizard Farengar. They were both eager to hear how she was doing. It had been quite a while since she had visited up in the reach and this meeting was partly meant to alleviate her own guilty conscience. Both the Jarl and his court wizard were quite astonished learning that she was now the Harbinger of the Companions but as their dinner came to an end, both men were surprised to see how much she actually had changed. There was certain maturity in her, wisdom that one rarely saw in young people. There was very little that resembled the shy, young Khajiit girl who once lived in the Dragonsreach with them.

She stopped at the first landing and looked over the city she loved. She heard laughter and talking down from the market, the Gildgergreen was blossoming with rosy, fresh leaves and afternoon was cooled by a cold breeze from the tundras. There was nowhere else she'd rather live. Riften held her childhood memories but Whiterun symbolized her youth and adulthood. She took a deep breath and continued on when the first screams reached her ears.

A young boy ran up the stairs and kept yelling. He was from one of the farms that raised their crops outside the gates of Whiterun. He was out of breath, sweaty and his eyes were burning with fear. Sura tried to grab him but he yanked his hands away and ran up to the Reach, screaming, repeating the same word over and over again.  _A dragon_. The boy disappeared inside the reach and she glanced up in the sky. It was clear and blue. No sign of anything threatening or dangerous. They hadn't had rain in Whiterun for ages and the thought of dragons filled her with worry. So far the cities of Skyrim had been spared of a bigger attack and she prayed things would continue the way they were. She hurried down the stairs and as she reached the shade of the giant Gildergreen, a massive shadow glided over her and she felt the air that embraced her. Hot, heavy and dangerous.

A giant, red beast circled the city. It was observing, flying effortlessly above them. It seemed like it was almost too lazy to attack, that it came around just to check what these busy, little creatures were doing on this fine, beautiful day. But then it made a sharp turn and Sura gasped and watched in horror as the first flames came down, fire rained upon the houses in the lower districts. When its shadow passed her again she jumped into action. She didn't bother running to Jorrvaskr, she knew the others must have heard what was happening. She ran down to the Market and saw that most of the guards were as terrified as the people that depended on their help. Fralia Gray-Mane, the old woman who sold Eorlund's jewels, tried to hide underneath her wooden market stall but Sura ran to her, grabbed her hand and pulled her out. She spotted Lydia running to the Market and when the two women saw each other their minds began to work together.

" _What's the safest place in Whiterun?"_

_"The Dragonsreach!"_

_"The guard barracks…no, the prison. Made out of stone, underneath the reach!"_

_"Get people there, to safety! Away from the Market!"_

Sura pulled Fralia with her and guided her up the stairs. She yelled to her that she should head towards the prison and take everyone she could with her. When the old woman dashed up the stairs, Vilkas, Farkas and the rest of Companions arrived at the Market. She knew Vilkas was about to say something, probably tell her to get to safety, but she ignored him and ordered most of the recruits to help the citizens. She told them to return as fast as they could. They would need all the help available if they were going to bring this beast down without J'Ziir.

The dragon glided above like it was measuring its target, trying to decide what the best place to attack was. The Jarl's archers took their position and began shooting arrows up at the lizard but its thick hide protected it. Most of the arrows bounced off and fell back to the ground without any effect. While the civilians climbed up to the reach, the Jarl, his brother Hrongar and the rest of reach's guard force made their way down the Market. To her horror, Sura saw the first buildings caught up in flames. The Wind District, which housed the Temple of Kynareth and few smaller houses, was enveloped by fire. It seemed that no one had expected this and everyone just stood on their places, like stone statues in a Nordic ruin, their eyes focused on the dragon up above. Sura knew they couldn't wait and no matter how hard it was to tears her eyes off the dragon, she took Vilkas's arm, pulled Lydia along her on the way and as she began to run, the rest of them finally followed.

"We need to put out the fire!" she shouted and her words made the Jarl snap out his shock.

He took control and ordered a bunch of guards to form a chain, deliver water from the nearby drainage and while the men began to work, Sura's eyes searched the sky and searched the masses. Where was J'Ziir? she thought. And what happened at the throat of World? This attack was somehow connected to his actions, had to be. It was a direct consequence of whatever he did up there. They worked hard and the biggest flames began to die down but then the beast was upon them again. It plunged down, its huge talons grabbed as many men as it could and it lifted them up in the air, tore them to pieces and dropped the remains on top of them. Bloody remains, entrails, and bones ripped in half rained down on them and the fate of their fellow companions caused the rest of the men to panic. If Jarl Balgruuf hadn't been there and regained control, the guard force of Whiterun would have diminished to Lydia and the rest of the Companions.

A deafening roar caused her body to shiver and Sura had to bite her lip to keep herself quiet. She could not be the one running away now, crying like a helpless child, not when there were others who needed her help. She saw that there were still people down in the Market, Carlotta and her daughter Mila were running towards the stairs and Hulda and her bard Mikael hurried from the Inn. And that's all she saw of them when the dragon landed and a wall of flames enveloped them all, burning down the whole square and leaving behind only sizzling remains of the houses. The smoke blocked out the sun and spread through the city and they began to cough and wheeze. It was getting harder to breathe.

They were all gone, Sura realized in the midst of all the chaos. The Inn, Arcadia's Cauldron and Belethor's store. The Market stalls, Carlotta's vegetable stand, and Fralias's trinkets. All destroyed into nothingness. And the people…the people! The dragon waved its leathery wings and the air fed the flames. Then it took off and rose back to the sky again. What it left behind was destruction, smoldering ruins and burned down corpses. She could clearly see them, laying on the demolished square, huddled up in a ball or twisted in some horrifying, desperate position, trying to cover themselves from the searing flames.

"We need to do something!" Lydia screamed at her. She pulled out her sword and watched the dragon as it once again circled the city. "We need to kill it. Bring it down somehow!"

"Arrows do nothing!" Aela shouted back. "Its hide is too thick!"

"I don't care!" Lydia pressed her lips together. "We need to kill it before it destroys the whole city!"

Sura didn't have time to stop her as she sprinted out of the line and ran towards the burning buildings. The dragon spotted her and as it descended towards her, Sura couldn't stay put and let her be slaughtered like the rest of them. She followed her lead and as Vilkas saw her dash straight towards danger, he didn't waste any time and was quick on her heels. The giant lizard was about to unleash another fiery stream and as Lydia turned to face it and drew the monsters attention, Sura readied the most devastating ice spells she knew and had in her arsenal. This living nightmare was breathing fire so flames wouldn't affect it.

She released the sharp, rock hard ice spikes and sent them flying through the air. The dragon roared from pain and anger as they hit its side and punctured its thick hide. She quickly jumped aside, aimed and sent another pair flying and this time they tore through its leathery wings. The beast was forced to land, its other front leg was injured, it's left wing ripped to pieces. The ground shook as it crashed down amidst the broken houses and smoldering ruins of the city and Lydia screamed as the huge talon came upon her and swiped her against the burning buildings.

Her cry of pain was high and loud and echoed through the city. It was like a sign, a signal that embodied all the pain and suffering that the people of Whiterun were going through at this moment. Hearing his own child cry like that, Hrongar unsheathed his war hammer and rushed forward. With all his force he brought it down and crushed the dragon's other hind leg. He didn't back down and landed a shattering strike after another. The giant beast roared and turned to face its adversary and before he had time to defend himself, it grabbed the Jarl's younger brother in its jaws and crushed his spine, his ribs, and his legs. Lydia still lay unconscious beneath the ruins. She was spared to witness her father's horrific fate but the rest of them saw and heard everything. Every cry of agony, every bone that snapped in half like a dry piece of wood.

When Hrongar's motionless body was tossed aside, broken and brutalized, the Jarl called out to the rest of his men. Now he was furious. The destruction of his city, the slaughtering of his people, his own family, his brother, and his niece. He wasn't going to stand it. And despite being injured that red scaled monstrosity was still trying to lift itself in the air. The Jarl ordered his men to attack. As they all ran forward, screaming and shouting, enraged and adrenaline pumping in their veins, a Thu'um that shook the city echoed from the front gate. It hit the dragon, enveloped it in a blue, sparkling haze and forced the creature to stay on the ground.

No one was happier to see the black furred Khajiit run into battle than Sura. He reached them in time. Not all but those few that still remained standing. As J'Ziir ran forward she didn't waste time joining him and when she ran, the rest of the Companions followed. Even Jarl Balgruuf pulled out his sword and joined the battle. When the beast was finally brought down, when its dying roar traveled through the city, they were all exhausted, bloody, covered in wounds and scratches and burns. Then a glowing spiral enveloped J'Ziir and he lowered his head, his hands tightened into fists, his breath quickened and he trembled, his whole body stiff and motionless. And then only the skeleton remained.

Whiterun was in shambles. Few buildings remained standing. People were dead. Missing. Gone for good. And as Sura looked around, she realized that the home she loved so much was gone as well.


	102. Chapter 102

**102.**

As soon as the pain once again gave up, J'Ziir searched for Lydia. He was relieved to see that Sura and Vilkas were alright and as they began to help the wounded and putting out the fires, he combed the smoldering remains of Belethor's old store until he saw a glimpse of her brown hair. He tossed aside the wooden beams and burned down debris and lifted her into his arms. She seemed uninjured aside from the few burns and light wounds and he carried her out of the ruins. He barely had time to lay her down on the ground when a guard came running to him and told him that cities all around Skyrim were under attack. Dragons were burning buildings and slaughtering people. Whiterun wasn't the only place which was under attack. Even small villages like Riverwood and Falkreath were in utter chaos. He barely arrived back to Whiterun when this accursed title of a hero forced him to leave them again and at a worst possible time.

Sura saw his anxiety and his reluctance. She touched his arm and promised to look after Lydia. He sighed, pushed the guard aside and dashed out of Whiterun. Sura knelt down, lifted Lydia's head and released a soft restoration spell. It didn't take long until she slowly opened her eyes. Her head was throbbing and aching and she lifted her hands and rubbed her forehead in circular motions. The pain began to fade and Sura helped her back on her feet. They stood there together, admits the ruins, listening to the wails and cries of the injured people.

"By the Gods," Lydia muttered and looked around. "This is horrible."

"How do you feel?" Sura asked.

"Awful," Lydia held her head. "Don't worry about me now. There are others that need help more. Was…was J'Ziir here? That skeleton looks like it…"

"Yes, he arrived just in time," Sura told her. "Whiterun isn't the only city that's in trouble. I heard Riverwood, Falkreath, even Solitude. What happened on that mountain that caused all this?"

"I don't know," Lydia shook her head." Something that infuriated the lizards. But we don't have time to think about that now."

Sura nodded and they as soon Lydia was able to stay on her feet, the two women rushed to help others. Sura saw the Jarl bending over his brother's body. He reached out his hand and closed his eyes. Hrongar was dead then, she thought. Lydia gasped as she saw her father lying on the ground. She pushed some of the guards aside, knelt down next to the Jarl and touched Hrongar's arm. When he didn't react, she gripped his arm and shook him.

"F...father," Lydia moaned and her eyes welled up. "Father…!"

Jarl Balgruuf touched her shoulder and she looked at him, tears streaming down her face, not really believing what was happening. She turned to her father again, latched on to him, her hands trembling. She called out to him, wiped the blood from his face, pressed his cold hand against her cheek and pulled him against her, rocked his upper body in her arms while she cried silently. She had lost her mother years and years ago and lately, she hadn't seen her father as often as she would have liked to. And now he lay there, not hearing, not seeing her. Dead. Gone forever.

"Lydia," Jarl Balgruuf finally spoke to her in soft, comforting voice. "He sacrificed himself for you, my dear. Honor his final gift and let his spirit travel to Sovngarde in peace."

It was hard, so hard to let him go. She swallowed back the rest of her tears and watched as the Jarl's men lifted him up and began carrying him towards the temple or Arkay. She still couldn't believe that her father was gone, it didn't sink in. She walked behind them and tried her best to understand how such a beautiful autumn day could turn into this horrific, unending nightmare. But of course, her sorrow, grief, and disbelief were nothing compared to others. They barely noticed that the Jarl's younger brother had perished. People of Whiterun were looking for each other, families tried their best to put out the flames that were still ravaging the city, only to find devastation and havoc among the ruins.

Lydia realized this was not the time she could succumb to her grief and as they crossed the burned down Market, she looked around and decided that best way to honor her father's memory was to help others. Hrongar would not be the first or the last person who was carried to the Temple of Arkay on that sad day. She turned as she heard calls for help and was about to run up the hill and help put out the high, scorching flames when she heard quiet sniffling near the smoldering ruins of the destroyed tavern. She followed the sounds and found Carlotta whose arms were still protectively curled around her young daughter Mila. The child was alive and crying, holding on to her mother and trying to wake her up. Lydia's heart sank when she realized that Carlotta would never again sell fruits in her small stall at the Market of Whiterun.

"Mila," Lydia said the girl's name and she looked up at her with red, swollen eyes.

The little girl trembled and refused to let go of her mother. Lydia knelt down next to her, wiped her tears and lulled her in her arms until she felt her little hands wrap around her own waist. She wasn't sure could she lift Mila up and carry her somewhere else, preferably away from Carlotta's body, but she decided to try. Mila didn't resist when she embraced her and lifted her up but she did reach out her hand and call out her mother's name with a weak, sobbing voice when she carried her away. As they passed by some of the guards, Lydia asked them to move Carlotta's body and a few minutes later she saw her being carried towards the temple of Arkay. Mila lay in her arms like a dead weight, but her hands were still locked around her neck. Since the girl refused to let go and she didn't feel like leaving her alone with another faceless guard, she carried her around the city, inspecting the damage. While many buildings were burned to the ground, the situation didn't seem as hopeless as she first thought. Jorrvaskr was still standing, and both of the temples were intact. Gildergreen was unharmed as well as the Dragonsreach. The big Battle-Born estate was mostly standing, one of the side walls was caved in but other than that it seemed rather sturdy, Uthgerd's house and Carlotta's little shack were both gone. The Drunken Huntsman was missing two of its walls and the roof had a big hole in it, but with little effort, it could be rebuilt. Both of its owners were alive as well. The Market suffered the biggest damages. Hulda's Inn was completely in shambles and so were the alchemy shop and the general store. The buildings could be rebuilt, she knew that. But the people that were lost today could never be replaced.

Hulda and Mikael. Carlotta. Belethor and Arcadia. And her father. Those were the people she knew left them today. There were probably more but those were the bodies she had seen and felt grief for all of them. Hulda's Inn was a place where people came all over Skyrim and she made them feel comfortable and at home. Arcadia was a sweet little woman who mixed love potions as well as experimented with new, interesting ingredients and had a secret crush with Farengar. And old Belethor would sell his mother if he had one. Despite his greed, the man was friendly and helpful and Lydia remembered them all with warmth and gratitude.

She was very surprised to see that Breezehome was completely unaffected by all of this. It stood on its place, confident like its owner like it knew nothing could happen to it. The Warmaiden's was intact as well and Adrianne and Ulfberth were among the people who were extinguishing the flames and helping others. J'Ziir's house was standing there like in any other day, warm and welcoming, the way she left it when she ran outside earlier that day. Was it really only a couple of hours ago? she wondered when she opened the door. In a few short hours, Whiterun was transferred from a cozy little town into a gateway to Oblivion.

Mila was still hanging on to her and she carried her upstairs. She didn't even hesitate when she opened the door to J'Ziir's bedroom. Well, it was more like her bedroom now as well. She slept there whether he was in or out. When he was home, he slept there next to her. When he was gone, she slept there alone. The tiny little room that was officially meant for her hadn't been used in ages. She lowered Mila to the bed and pulled the covers over her. As she was about to get up and remove her armor, she quickly grabbed her arm. The fear lingered in her eyes and Lydia caressed her forehead and promised she wouldn't leave her alone.

She unbuckled her breastplate and laid it next to the bed, pulled off her boots and bracers and tossed them to the floor. Then she lay next to Mila and the girl crawled right next to her, buried her face under her neck and wrapped her arms around her. Lydia felt her hot, quiet tears on her shirt and she caressed her back while she cried away the endless pain. She knew what it felt like to lose your mother, she remembered it clearly. The hopelessness and the emptiness. There was nothing that could fill that hole in your heart.

But tonight she and Mila were the same. Two orphans lying on this big bed, trying to comfort each other. It was like the whole city was crying. She heard screams and wailing, people yelling outside and one part of her said that she should go out and help. But Mila was curled against her body and leaving her felt too cruel. It took a long time for her to get any rest that night. When she heard the low rumble of the thunder and when the rain finally began to pound the roof of the house, she let out a big sigh of relief. At least the heavens were helping them a little. It would take a long time to the city to recover. Even longer for its people to get over their grief. But just as the rain finally came and extinguished the last of the flames, Whiterun would rebuild and recover.

Mila stirred in her arms and she hummed a familiar tavern tune that Mikael always sang at Hulda's. The child relaxed in her arms and she realized that sleep eventually came and took her into its comforting arms. She closed her own eyes and listened to the rain. And wished that J'Ziir would return home soon.


	103. Chapter 103

**103.**

J'Ziir was sure this must have happened before. Coming home like this, tired, dirty and wanting nothing more than to crawl upstairs to his bed, fall down and sleep the next two to five years, maybe even longer if he could. He'd been away for four days and during that time he killed at least a dozen dragons. All over Skyrim. From Riverwood all the way to the capital city. Dragon after another, destroying everything in its path. And people all around him, begging for help, appraising him, and calling him their savior.

As the beasts fell down and died, their souls, one after another forced its way somewhere inside him. He knew there was no running from it. No matter how quickly he left the scene, whether he was right next to the corpse or hundred yards away from it, the souls of those damned lizards always found him and he was forced to accept them into his aching body. More power for him, yes, but he'd rather live without the constant pain that absorbing the souls caused. He asked about the weird pain from Paarthurnax, why and where did it come from. The old dragon was silent for a long, long time. Then he looked away, somewhere across the land and muttered " _the_   _Argonian_ ". He knew he'd seen an Argonian at some point, plenty of them, but his tired mind couldn't pinpoint the exact memory. A weird, red skinned Argonian with huge horns. He felt like they were all hiding something from him, he could almost smell it. But since there were many others things requiring his attention, he didn't have the patience or the time to pursue the strange, elusive Argonian. His time would come, but later. Much later.

When he arrived to Whiterun early that morning, he was greeted by a very different city that he was used to. The fire and flames were no longer fuming but most of Wind district and the Market were destroyed and wiped out. He saw people working, clearing up the rubble and tending to those who were still wounded and dug out from the ruins. Like Lydia, he was surprised to see Breezehome intact. As he opened the door and smelled the scent of smoke and cooked food, he relaxed and sighed. Finally, he was able to rest for a while.

He tossed his weapons and armor away, almost carelessly leaving the sharp axes down on the floor, dropping his daggers where they landed and then he crawled upstairs. Lydia was probably sleeping; he hadn't seen her among the people out there, digging bodies out of the ruins. He peeked into her room and noticed that her bed was empty. Great, J'Ziir sighed. Now he could just crawl next to her, wrap his arms around her and fall asleep feeling her body next to him. He opened the door to his own room and sure enough, there was Lydia's familiar shape, lying beneath the covers. But as he approached the bed, he noticed that she wasn't sleeping alone. A small girl slept next to her, their arms locked around each other like they were shielding one another from horrible nightmares. He recognized the child. It was Mila Valentia, Carlotta's daughter. J'Ziir sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled the covers over them.

Carlotta was dead then, he reasoned. And Lydia lost her father. So these two orphans found each other and were sharing their grief and mourning over their loved ones together. He didn't see any reason waking them up or sending Mila away. He liked the little girl so he allowed them to sleep. He was sure that the Jarl of Whiterun would send someone sooner or later and the girl would find a new home for herself. He walked back to the small side room and fell down to the tiny, narrow, unbelievably uncomfortable bed. He tossed and turned until he finally found a position that was moderately comfortable. His feet rested on top of the wooden head and he only now noticed just how low the ceiling was. Of course, he had never slept in this bed or in this room and he could understand why Lydia preferred the bigger bed in the master bedroom.

He closed his eyes and waited for sleep to take him over. Instead, he saw vivid images of the past days, what happened at Throat of World, the endless hunt for the damned Scroll, countless falmer, chaurus and dwarven machinery down in the Blackreach and the crazy old lunatic who was hiding in the middle of the icecaps in his underground laboratory. Too much running around Skyrim and very few answers. Also, Delphine's insane demands of having Paarthurnax killed made his blood boil. After the World-Eater was banished to Sovngarde, he made one last trip to Skyhaven Temple. And when he left, only old Esbern remained behind. He spared his life because he showed him Alduin's wall and actually gave him some real advice. He respected his allies and was willing to admit that Esbern was helpful. But Delphine did nothing but make demands, one after another. And the old dragon on top of the mountain, well…he was attached to him in many ways and didn't want to see him die. That would also anger the Greybeards. And Arngerin was alright. A bit preachy at times, but alright. He didn't want to burn his bridges to that way either. And he was not interested in stuffing another dragon soul inside his own.

Esbern didn't attack him. He looked very disappointed and after Delphine was gone, he probably gathered his things and left. Thoughts circled around his head and no matter how tired he was, sleep would never visit him in this state. His stomach growled and he decided to go back downstairs and grab something to eat. When he got out of the bed and his feet hit the floor, something or  _someone_  made a barely audible noise in the kitchen below him. A fork or spoon fell to the floor. During the day it wouldn't have caught his attention in any way, but it was barely morning and both Lydia and Mila were still asleep and the house was quiet. He hadn't heard them getting up. Someone was moving down there.

As silent as a predator in the wild stalking its prey, he sneaked to the door and opened it carefully. He didn't have any weapons up here and he cursed himself for leaving all his things downstairs. Everyone in Whiterun knew who lived in Breezehome and to this day, no one dared to break in. The sun hadn't yet risen and the early morning was dark but he never had any troubles of navigating during the night. He glanced downstairs and saw a dark figure, standing just underneath the wooden ladder. Something about his posture was strangely familiar and as soon as he heard him whisper something to his " _lass_ ", J'Ziir recognized the person who was sneaking around in his house.

"Brynjolf!" he hissed between his lips and his jaw clenched.

His older brother, the read headed thief glanced upstairs and smiled. He lit a candle and his grin was wide and warm, almost overly friendly. He hadn't come alone. The young, dark-haired Imperial was with him. Aura, Brynjolf's personal entertainer, his protégé, his right, and left hand. She was browsing his bookshelf and didn't even look back when he stormed downstairs.

"You should have better locks in your doors," Brynjolf smirked. "It was way too easy to get in."

"Why are you here?" J'Ziir snarled.

"Calm down,  _boss_ ," Brynjolf pat him on the head like he was his pet dog. "I have a very good reason to be here. Before that…would you like me to invite my lockpick expert over? The Guild-Master should really have better locks in his house."

"No," J'Ziir scowled. "Just leave, I want to sleep."

"Yes, I figured you were coming back from some great adventure or another," Brynjolf walked to the kitchen and grabbed an apple pie behind the counter. He began eating it and tossed a sweetroll to Aura. "Have a bite. I know you like sweet things."

"Look, I don't care what you have to say," J'Ziir tried to pry the plate from his hands. "I'm tired and I want to sleep. Now leave!"

"Hey, I'm eating this!" Brynjolf defended himself.

"Eat somewhere else!" J'Ziir pointed at him. "I didn't invite you over."

"True," Brynjolf nodded. "But Whiterun like many other cities in Skyrim seems to lack a tavern at this point. And I'm here because I have important news."

"Fine then!" J'Ziir grabbed his collar and led him toward the door. "You have five seconds before I throw you out!"

"Very friendly of you!" Brynjolf squirmed out of his hands. "And here I thought you'd be thankful."

"For what?" J'Ziir asked. "That you two broke into my home, in the middle of the night. Do you really want me to call the guards?"

"Isn't this precious?" Brynjolf plunged down on a warm, comfortable chair in front of the fire. "The Guild-Master himself wants to throw both of us to jail. I think you'd join us pretty fast down there. Who knows, maybe the prison in Whiterun is more comfortable than in Riften. What do you think, lass? You're awfully quiet."

"Stop it, Brynjolf," Aura rolled her eyes. "Just tell him why we're here."

"Alright," Brynjolf lifted his hands and pointed at the two chairs next to him. "Both of you sit down."

"Do you know what this is about?" J'Ziir glanced at the Imperial.

"I have a hunch," Aura replied. "And it's a bad hunch."

A line appeared between J'Ziir brows. In a second or two he would either leave the scene or kill everyone in sight. Either way, he didn't have the patience to listen. But Brynjolf's serious face told him that he had something important in mind and J'Ziir sat down next to him. He took a deep breath and knew as soon as Brynjolf opened his mouth that he would be dragged in another huge mess that had very little to do with him.

"The civil war is finally moving, lad," Brynjolf began. "There's an Imperial legate in Riften, Fasendil. He has a bunch of eager young soldiers under him. One of them is actually from Riverwood. Anyway, Legate Fasendil seems to hold a lot of authority over his little strike force. He's managed to make a difference. Riften is no longer under Ulfric's rule."

"From Riverwood?" J'Ziir mumbled. "Hadvar?"

"I think so," Aura nodded. "Young, brown hair, big muscles. Kind, soft voice."

When both men glanced at her, she shrugged and explained that she was interested to know him a little better. You have to know who your enemies and allies are and she would rather keep Hadvar as an ally. She certainly didn't want to be his enemy. That would make things awkward between them and diminish her chances of seducing him. Besides, men who had kind, soft voice were one of her weaknesses. She found accents irresistible and that's what first drew her to Brynjolf's arms, to begin with. Not his talents as a lover, which were substantial and praiseworthy, but his soft, smoky tone of voice.

"You slept with him, didn't you?" Brynjolf asked but there was no anger in his voice. Just simple curiosity.

"I tried," Aura admitted. "But he was too focused on the war. Not an easy target."

"Wait," J'Ziir lifted his hand. "Aren't you two…together?"

"Kind of," Aura said. "But it's nothing serious. I know Brynjolf has other women. And I have many, many other men. It's not a problem."

"Really?" J'Ziir looked at Brynjolf and he nodded and smirked.

"This is not about us, however," Brynjolf continued. "Laila Law-Giver is no longer the Jarl of Riften. The city is leaderless. And currently in shambles, like Whiterun. And there lies our big opportunity. Place one of our own as the Jarl and Riften and  _all_  the trade from Cyrodiil will eventually fall into our lap. All we have to do is end this pesky war."

"Oh, you make it sound so incredibly easy," Aura sighed. "Any suggestions?"

"I'm getting there," Brynjolf grinned. "First things first. The Jarl. I have a perfect candidate in mind. She's brilliant, intelligent, cunning. But most importantly, she has our best interests at heart."

"Please don't tell me it's Mjoll you're thinking?" Aura wrinkled her nose. "I know you think she's pretty and all. I've seen the way you try to charm your way into her pants. And all she ever talks about how Riften is her big beast to conquer."

"Her pants and her ideals are two different things," Brynjolf said. "And while I'd love to tame the Lioness, she doesn't harbor very warm feelings towards the guild."

"How long is this going to take?" J'Ziir yawned. "It seems you two can decide this by yourself. Mind if I go back upstairs?"

_"_ _You_ , Aura," Brynjolf turned her gaze towards the Imperial. "We'll make you the next Jarl of Riften."


	104. Chapter 104

**104.**

"What?" Aura's face grew pale. "What did you say?"

"It makes perfect sense," Brynjolf said.

"It makes no sense at all!" Aura grimaced. "First of all, I'm an Imperial. These stubborn Nords would never,  _never,_  accept me as their Jarl!"

"A small detail," Brynjolf waved his hand. "I'll make sure no one pays any attention to your race."

"I don't want to!" Aura crossed her arms. "You can't make me!"

"I know you were noble in the Imperial City before you crossed the border under a false name," Brynjolf said and Aura's face hardened. "This title is a walk in the park for you."

"You want me to be a Jarl only in the name then," Aura grit her teeth. "Like Laila was when Maven Black-Briar was alive."

"This is a golden opportunity for us," Brynjolf assured them. "Once Riften is under our rule, nothing and no one can stop us."

"What do you think about all this nonsense?" Aura looked at J'Ziir. She didn't hide the fact that she wanted nothing to do with this title.

Aura was still very young. J'Ziir didn't know anything about her past, she was very secretive about it. He didn't even know her age but by looking at her, he would have guessed her to be twenty-five, maybe even younger. She looked innocent and her smile always caught everyone off guard. She knew how to seduce men and wrap them around her little finger and she used her body and her looks to her advantage. Her skin was smooth, her nose small and covered with freckles, her eyes big and brown, her dark hair short and it came down to the chin. She kept it neat and clean. The only thing that corrupted her perfect skin was a single, long scar beneath her left eye. She and Brynjolf were friends with benefits. They often shared the same bed but neither of them had any emotional hold over one another. He would have known next to nothing about her if Brynjolf hadn't mentioned her past and that she used to be noble. She was smart. Almost too sharp for her own good.

"Well," J'Ziir tilted his head. "If Brynjolf thinks he can make this work…"

"You're actually considering it?" Aura gasped. "No, someone might recognize me!"

"What? Are you a wanted criminal in Cyrodiil? A Talos worshipper hunted by the Thalmor?" Brynjolf asked.

"You're the one to talk!" Aura hissed. "As if you didn't know everything about me already."

"Honestly, lass," Brynjolf waved his hand dismissively. "Your past doesn't interest me. The only thing I know is that you were noble and even that information crossed my desk by accident."

"You better leave it at that then," Aura gnashed her teeth. "Or I'm gone for good."

"Consider it dropped," Brynjolf promised. "All that matters is here and now. We need Riften under our thumb. And the only way we can achieve it is by placing one of our own as the Jarl."

"Well, why don't you step up then?" J'Ziir scratched his head.

"You need me too much where I am," Brynjolf explained. "If I became the Jarl, you'd have to move to Riften and practically live beneath the streets. You can wander Skyrim all you want in your glorious adventures because I'm doing the dirty work for you. Unless you really want to take on my responsibilities…?"

J'Ziir cringed and Brynjolf smiled. They both knew how much he hated the Ratways, the constant smell of sewers, the skeevers and the slimy moist that covered the dripping stone walls. Aura stared at them and knew in her heart that Brynjolf was starting to turn J'Ziir's mind. He was good at that. Always knew when and how to push the right buttons. Always say the right words at the right time. She bit her lower lip and wondered how she of all people, always so careful, always so cautious, got mixed up in such a complicated situation. She should know better.

"Don't you have any other options?" J'Ziir finally asked. "You heard her, she doesn't want to be the Jarl. Choose someone else."

"Life is not about what we want," Brynjolf said. "You of all people should know it. You were forced to be the Dragonborn, weren't you?"

"Yes, but if I had a choice, I would have declined the honor!" J'Ziir pointed out.

"There is no one else," Brynjolf's face grew serious. "If there was, I would have suggested that person, to begin with. Not settle for second best."

"Isn't there some kind of rules to this thing?" Aura asked. "I mean, you alone can't decide who's chosen as Jarl, right?"

"Of course there are," Brynjolf explained. "Don't you think I've thought this through before I actually brought it up? Everything is settled, I didn't jump into this blindly. I've spent weeks laying out the groundwork. And now all I have to do is present my candidate and its smooth sailing from there on out."

"If you got everything covered, why come here at all?" J'Ziir frowned.

"Because that's the thing," Brynjolf said. "I need your support on this. You're the Dragonborn, hero of the land. One word here, another one there and before we know it, these stubborn Nords of Riften will start to see her in a different light. You already saved their city from a dragon attack. Not everyone was fond of the Black-Briars. People of Riften respect you, believe it or not. Nothing you do can be wrong in their eyes."

"Don't listen to him!" Aura looked almost mortified.

"Lass," Brynjolf took her hand. "I promise it won't be difficult. Everything is taken care of. All you have to do is to look pretty, smile a little and sit on the throne every now and then."

"And live in that awful keep," Aura yanked her hand away. "You're not offering me enough, Brynjolf."

"Fine then," Brynjolf's face softened. "How about I'll make sure your steward is handsome and great in bed? If you want more than one, I can manage that as well. I'll have men posted right outside your door and you can call them in anytime you want and as many as you want. Have an orgy, if you wish! I'll make sure that you can slip in and out unnoticed during the evenings and the nights, no questions asked and no explanations needed. I only ask that you'll be back at the keep before the dawn. And that you won't get caught."

"How many stewards?" Aura licked her lips.

"As many as you want, lass," Brynjolf smirked. "As many as you want."

J'Ziir stared at them. This woman was like one of those Companions, the air-headed brother of Raji's husband, what was his name...Farkas? They were identical in their lust for the other sex and J'Ziir didn't want to think about what would happen if they ever met each other. That would probably be the end of Skyrim, the end of Tamriel. Even his powers as Dragonborn wouldn't be enough to save the land from their endless lust. He cleared his throat and Aura and Brynjolf snapped out of their hazy dreams and straightened their backs.

"So, is it settled then?" J'Ziir asked.

"I think so, yes," Brynjolf smiled. "If she takes my offer, that is."

"Oblivion take you," Aura glared at him. "If you go back on your word!"

"I won't," Brynjolf's eyes sparkled. "You'll have your men, you lusty woman. I'll even promise to get you a certain Argonian maid if that's what you want. As long as you keep a place open for me every now and then, I have no problem of keeping my end of the bargain."

"That depends," Aura said with a soft, seductive voice. "Are you good enough for a Jarl?"

"Will you look at her!" Brynjolf chuckled. "What a minx!"

"That's " _my Jarl_ " from now on then!" Aura declared.

"Yes, my Jarl," Brynjolf leaned forward and kissed her hand. "How about you polish my spear later tonight, my Jarl?"

"We're not acting out that again!" Aura laughed and nudged him away.

"Alright, so what do you need from me?" J'Ziir finally asked and shoved him back to his chair.

"Simple," Brynjolf said. "All you have to do is visit Riften at certain, specified times, talk to a few people, drop some names and the word starts to spread. Nothing too complicated. I know you don't like complicated."

"I can't be that easy," J'Ziir rolled his eyes. "There are plenty of people who won't accept this."

"Let me handle all that," Brynjolf raised his hand. "You just do what I tell you to."

"I keep saying it over and over again," J'Ziir stretched his arms. "You should have been the Guild-Master, not me. Why did you push it one me in the first place?"

"Because I like working in the shadows," Brynjolf chuckled. "And your fame keeps the light on you and leaves room for the rest of us to work in peace."

"Fine," J'Ziir stood up from his chair. "Anything else or can I get back to sleep?"

"Just one thing," Brynjolf wrapped his arm around J'Ziir shoulder. "Tell my love to Lydia. If things don't work out between you two, there's always room in my bed. For her and all of your other lady friends you keep rejecting."

He smacked Brynjolf at the back of his head, shoved them out of the door and slammed it shut behind them. Yet he could hear Brynjolf's bright, almost mocking laughter in his ears long after he climbed back upstairs to actually get some sleep.


	105. Chapter 105

**105**.

He felt like he slept only for five minutes until he was once again woken by loud noises coming from downstairs. He pried his open and was almost blinded by the bright sunlight that streamed through the window. He blinked, covered his eyes with his hands and groaned. He hadn't had of drop ale or mead in a long, long time and yet he somehow had the worst hangover in years. His neck was aching, his head was throbbing, his back was skewed in a peculiar position and his feet were tangled inside the blanket and could barely hold him up while he tried to get up from the bed. The first thing he experienced was even more pain when he banged his head on the low ceiling. He cursed aloud and with a loud thump, he fell off the bed. As his head hit the floorboards, he cursed again. He tried to get up but his feet were hopelessly trapped inside the bed covers and he had to rip the thing apart to get free. He was suffocating in the hot room, there was no air around him and he was swimming in his own sweat. He stumbled on to his feet and pushed the window open, stuck his head out and took a deep breath. The only thing he smelled was cow manure and smoke. The day was searchingly hot, there was no wind and the sun winked at him from a clear, blue sky.

He was already in a very bad mood when he rummaged through the room to find some clothes. Eventually, he managed to discover a dirty shirt and trousers which both smelled awful and caused him to gag but he settled for those until he could find some clean clothes, take a bath, eat something and then sleep for the rest of the day, preferably on top a snowy mountain. He opened the door and stretched, heard his bones crack as he turned his neck. He was planning to get some breakfast and headed downstairs when Lydia's clear, angry voice reached his ears.

"No! You won't take her!" she claimed. "I don't care what the Jarl says, she stays here with me!"

"Whiterun is in no position to look after orphans right now," Proventus Avenicci replied with a calm, sensible voice. "This little girl is better off in the orphanage in Riften. The woman who takes care of the children is known to be kind and warm."

"I! Don't! Care!" Lydia tried to shut the door on him but the two guards that accompanied him prevented her from doing so.

"What's happening here?" J'Ziir strolled down the stairs and pushed the guards back.

The Dragonborn caused them to be on their guard. Proventus cleared his throat and took out the proclamation that Jarl Balgruuf had signed this morning. It stated that Whiterun was in a state of an emergency. Everyone who couldn't take care of themselves, mostly orphaned children, were to be sent to the Honorhall Orphanage in Riften. Everyone who was old enough to work was assigned to help with the construction and rebuilding of the city. Mila was crying and her arms were locked around Lydia's waist. She didn't want to leave Whiterun, didn't want to leave Lydia. Her mother was dead and the world had turned into a cold, horrifyingly dark place and Lydia was the only light, the only safe place she hung on to.

"They are planning to take Mila away," Lydia looked at J'Ziir and wrapped her arm around the little girl. "I won't let them."

J'Ziir closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten. He wondered when he had become so patient, so kind. That he would tolerate these people, barging into his home, his private area, disturbing him whenever they wanted. He shoved the guards out and slammed the door shut. Despite the constant knocking and angry commands, he walked to the counter, grabbed a plate and filled it with food. He didn't say anything and Lydia had no idea what he was thinking. Mila stopped crying but she was still clutching Lydia's hand. She wasn't afraid of the Dragonborn, he had always been kind to her. Even played hide and seek with her couple of times. But she was afraid of being taken away, to some far away city she knew nothing about, to a place filled with strangers.

"Isn't this a fine welcome," J'Ziir muttered. "Guards banging behind the door, Proventus with a pile of papers in his hands. The sun trying to fry me alive. What else? A group of bandits living in our basement with a pet troll that wears a solid steel armor?"

"We don't have a basement," Mila remarked and J'Ziir glanced at her.

"Not yet we don't," J'Ziir sat down and began to eat. "But knowing my luck, the falmer will burrow through the floor and before the end of the day, we all fall down into a nasty nest of spiders and get eaten alive."

"Can they dig through a stone floor?" Mila moved near the table and sat down next to him. "How?"

J'Ziir began to explain and Mila listened to him with fascination. Lydia smiled and sighed. During the past three days, the girl couldn't do anything but cry and sleep and eat a little. And now here she was, sitting next to the stinky Dragonborn and listened to his fanciful tales with sparkling eyes. While they were talking, Lydia walked to the back room and filled the wooden tub with warm water. J'Ziir was tired and hungry but he didn't need to be dirty. And she was still his housecarl despite their close relationship. She knew she didn't fill the tub because she had to she did it because she wanted to. When the tub was ready, she peeked out of the door and heard Mila's laughter. It was a cozy, heartwarming sound. Lydia's heart skipped a beat when she though J'Ziir as a father. Then she mentally slapped herself and told not to think about such things. J'Ziir would probably never want a responsibility like that. She walked to them and told him that if he wanted to take a bath, the water was ready. He glanced at Mila like there was some kind of secret between him and the girl and then Mila smiled. He stood up, took his plate and walked to the back room. Mila remained by the table, hummed some old tune and munched a piece of sweetroll.

J'Ziir got undressed and stepped into the warm tub, held his plate higher and sat down. He sighed as the warm water embraced his body. He was still hungry so he ate the rest of the food, washed the plate in the bathwater and placed it on one of the shelves near the tub. Then he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wooden frame of the tub. He would probably have fallen asleep right there and then if Lydia hadn't opened the door and walked in. He didn't bother to open his eyes. He heard her footsteps and felt her hands when he began to massage his shoulders. He frowned. This was not like her. She usually didn't approach him if he didn't send clear signs to her that he absolutely wanted it. And most of the time she was dumb as a rock and as hard to get through.

"So…you didn't ask why Mila was here," Lydia molded his stiff muscles under her fingers. Her voice was shaky and insecure like she didn't know where this conversation would lead.

"Carlotta is dead," J'Ziir said.

"And many others," Lydia confirmed. "Hulda and Mikael, Arcadia, Belethror…I don't even know how many more."

"Jarl Balgruuf wants to send the orphans to Riften," J'Ziir continued. "Sensible."

"Sensible?" Lydia's fingers squeezed a little harder on his shoulder. "How is that sensible in any way? Send them away from the only home they have ever known."

"Where no one is taking care of them," J'Ziir concluded.

"There are people here who could take care of Mila," Lydia claimed.

"Who?" J'Ziir was interested to know what she was asking. Was she really bold enough to declare that she would take care of the girl until the child was old enough to care for herself?

"Me, for instance," Lydia suggested but the tone of uncertainty didn't leave her voice.

"Oh," J'Ziir tilted his head so that Lydia's hands slipped to the left side of his neck and massaged the tight, aching muscles of his shoulders. "And how would you manage that?"

"What do you mean?" Lydia frowned.

"You are my housecarl," J'Ziir reminded her. "And right now you live in my house and serve me, whatever that means. I pay you nothing, you have no property of your own, no means to support yourself and her if I were to throw you out right after this relaxing shoulder massage. Would you be able to support her while living on the streets?"

"You wouldn't throw me out," Lydia snorted but she was not so certain.

"Wouldn't I?" J'Ziir asked with cold, uncaring voice. "How do you know that? Maybe I've had enough of you."

"Really?" Lydia tugged his ear and pressed harder with her hands. "So you would rather eat someone else's food? You'd rather have someone else prepare your baths? And maybe you'd want someone else in your bed as if anyone else would tolerate a beast like you between the sheets."

"I never heard you complain," J'Ziir muttered.

"As if I had a choice," Lydia hissed. "You'll throw me out if I say anything that doesn't please you,  _my Thane_!"

Oh boy! J'Ziir thought. "My Thane" hadn't been used in ages. Back then they both practically hated each other. When Lydia was a nuisance and he was a self-centered jerk who cared about nothing or no one. These days Lydia called him mostly by his first name. "My Thane" was used when Lydia was annoyed, sarcastic or simply wanted to irritate him.

"I heard about your father," J'Ziir took her hand and held it gently in his own.

The mood changed instantly, from half flirtatious to deadly serious. He heard Lydia sigh and there were tears in her silent sob. She covered her mouth with her other hand and leaned her forehead against his back. He swallowed and felt like the most disrespecting moron in all of Skyrim. He of all people should know what it meant to lose your only family and still he cared very little of her pain and grief. It was no use of telling himself that he was like that. He wasn't that person anymore. Things changed and he wasn't sure was the change good or bad.

"At least he and mother are together now," Lydia finally said. "He tried to protect me. It was foolish of me trying to attack that dragon by myself."

"Then why did you?" J'Ziir asked.

"It was destroying our home," Lydia explained. "I didn't want that to happen. I wanted you to have a place where you could return. Where you could feel safe and happy and warm."

"You attacked it and risked your life because of me?" J'Ziir stiffened.

"Of course," Lydia nodded. "I'm your housecarl, aren't I?"

"Forget about that!" J'Ziir jerked away from her. "You are not bound to me by any such duty! Let the house burn down. Just get out before it crashes on top of your stupid head!"

There was really no need to be so harsh but thinking she might have died during her idiotic attempt to save Whiterun made him angrier than he had any right to be. Lydia dropped her eyes and J'Ziir wanted to apologize, for the first time he really did. He sat back down and wondered how he should begin. He never apologized to anyone. He never saw the need to. To this day he always knew what to say and how to say it and he never cared about how the other person felt. He didn't have time for that.

"Lydia," he began. "Just…don't risk your life for such meaningless things."

That was all he could manage. It didn't sound anything like "I'm so sorry" and hardly resembled an apology but he just couldn't force the words out his mouth.

"It's not meaningless," Lydia wrapped her hands around his neck and pressed her cheek against his. "You mean everything to me. For you, I can face a dragon and not be afraid. Because I know I do it for the right reasons."

He was about to deny her feelings once more, tell her not to have such high hopes for him. But he didn't want to be too brutal this time. Maybe he could say something even gentle, try to tell her that he appreciated her concern but his life wasn't worth that much. And once again he hesitated too long. Lydia stood up and walked to the main hall. He heard her talking with Mila and her voice was soft and kind, filled with love. He closed his eyes and as the warm water relaxed his muscles he noticed how easily he could just fall asleep, listening to their happy voices and quiet chatter. He never even knew he enjoyed such sounds until they were part of his life.

And then – someone was knocking, or more like banging, behind their front door again. J'Ziir eyes snapped open and he didn't need to guess who was responsible for disturbing his privacy. He decided to sit and listen to what would happen. If Lydia couldn't handle them, he might get up and shout them out of the door. He didn't want that to happen. Not because of them, he couldn't care less if Proventus was smashed against the Drunken Huntsman and distributed across Whiterun in itty bitty pieces. He just didn't want to feel the pain again.

He heard Lydia's footsteps. Mila grew quiet and her happy laughter ceased. Then his housecarl opened the door and what followed changed his life once again.


	106. Chapter 106

**106.**

Lydia opened the door hoping it wasn't the Jarl's steward standing outside. But of course, she should have known that Proventus wouldn't give up so easily. It was him alright and he was accompanied by Commander Caius himself and four strong, armed guards. Commander Caius looked rather angry to be dragged down in here for something like this. There was so much more to do in Whiterun, this should not have been a priority to them at all. But Proventus wanted to do everything by the book and that's why he stood here now.

"Lydia," Proventus began. "I have clear orders here to take Mila Valentia and place her in the carriage that is leaving from Whiterun stables in fifteen minutes."

"I told you," Lydia tried to reason with him. "Mila stays with me!"

"I understand your concern," Proventus tried to sound sympathetic. "But she will be properly taken care of."

Mila noticed the Jarl's steward and at first, she tried to hide behind the table. Of course, they saw her and Lydia wasn't able to keep them all out. Two guardsmen rushed inside and grabbed her by the arms. She screamed, cried and wiggled between them like a helpless fish caught in a fisherman's line.

"Wait!" Lydia yelled at them and pulled Mila by her side. "She's just a child!"

"Ly…Lydia!" Mila wailed and clung to her dress, tears streaming down her little face. "Lydia…I don't want to go!"

"Come quietly now," one the guards ordered and reached out his hand.

As a last desperate attempt, she sprinted out of their reach, threw the door to the backroom open and crawled behind the wooden tub which was filled with water and occupied by a large, grown man. The guards pursued her through the house but they were all forced to stop at the door when they saw the Dragonborn, lounging in the bathtub. His eyes were still closed but his eyebrows twitched. He seemed to care very little of the ruckus that took place around him but Lydia knew it was all just a cover. His quiet demeanor just meant that things would soon get from bad to worse. Despite all of this Lydia pushed the guards aside and stepped next to J'Ziir.

"If you want her, you'll have to get through us," she declared.

"Lydia," J'Ziir said but didn't open his eyes. "What did I just asked you moments ago?"

"I don't care," Lydia glanced at him. "Throw me out then if you want! I'll find some way to take care of her."

"Dragonborn," Proventus tried to be diplomatic. "This doesn't have to get violent. Just let us take the girl and we'll leave you in peace."

"Tell me, Proventus," J'Ziir's eyes squinted. "Is this really so important and so difficult that you have to bust in here with the commander of the guard and three other ruffians?"

"I have orders from the Jarl," Proventus claimed.

"It seems everything else in Whiterun is going superbly then," J'Ziir grinned but it wasn't a happy smile. It was cruel and diminishing, meant to make the other person feel worthless and insignificant. "All the wounded are healed, all the houses are built, the rubble cleared. So that you have all this time to chase after little kids and force them to leave their hometown."

"Let me remind you that Whiterun was destroyed because of  _you_!" Proventus raised his voice. "If you'd dealt with these dragons long ago, none of this would have happened! But no...you've been running around Skyrim and enjoying your fame and fortunes like a brainless peasant who thinks farm work means a relaxing afternoon stroll from his house to the cow and back!"

Lydia shot a warning gaze towards the Imperial but he ignored her. Now he was just begging for troubles and instead of being quiet, Proventus pulled out a pile of papers out of his satchel, ruffled them for a while and then began to read his orders out loud, with an overly obnoxious and hateful voice.

"Now, do I make myself clear?" he finally said with a confident voice. "No one is above the law, not even you, oh great hero of Skyrim. Please, move aside so we can take this child away. We are running out of time."

"And if I don't?" J'Ziir asked and leaned his head against the wooden edge of the tub. "Then what?"

"Then I might have to ask Commander Caius here to arrest you," Proventus declared. The eyes of the said Commander blinked, one, twice, three times and then he glanced towards the ceiling. How a simple errand like this suddenly turned so complicated? He didn't want to tussle with the Dragonborn, he knew it was suicidal and he was beginning to see the depth of this swamp that the Jarl's steward was willingly walking into.

"Go ahead then," J'Ziir spread his arms and was about the get of the tub. "But we better go through Dragonsreach, I have few words for Jarl Balgruuf. Shall we go?"

"This is ridiculous!" Commander Caius intervened. "There is no need for that. If the girl can stay here, then it's no longer our problem, is it? Besides, the carriage from Whiterun has already left."

"We are doing things according to the rules," Proventus insisted. "How am I supposed to know that this little rascal won't be begging at the temple a few days later? To leave her here, under the care of the Dragonborn, I'd have to have the necessary documents signed."

"But you have them with you, right?" Lydia asked, turned to Mila and smiled encouragingly.

"Well, yes, but I don't see how that makes any difference," Proventus huffed.

"Here's a quill and an ink bottle," Lydia grabbed the necessary equipment of the shelf, dipped the pencil into the bottle and handed it to J'Ziir. He stared at her like she suddenly turned into a complete lunatic.

"You…want to me sign it?" J'Ziir's eyes narrowed. "Have you lost your mind?"

"Since I can't do it," Lydia nudged him. "You will have to."

"Do you know what it means if I do?" J'Ziir glared at her.

"Kind of," Lydia nodded. "It means that we'll take care of Mila for now."

"Not for now!" J'Ziir corrected her. "It means that I'm officially adopting her, as my own child! I have to take care of her for as long as she needs, let her live in my house, feed her and provide for her! That's what it means!"

He turned his back to her, the muscle in his jaw twitched and he cursed the stupidity of his housecarl. Yes, he understood that Lydia's father was dead and in a way she directed all her grief and sadness and the care and love towards Mila, wanted to make sure the girl would be alright. His bathwater was getting cold and he was getting more and more annoyed by the minute. There was a whole congregation in his bathroom and he wanted everyone out and fast. His head lulled backward and he turned his gaze only to be confronted with Mila's sad eyes. She peered over the tub, her hands holding on to the wooden edge. She was clearly fighting back the tears, swallowing every now and then and begged him with her eyes; begged him not to let them take her away.

"What do you think, Mila?" J'Ziir asked and as he talked to the girl his voice was coated with kindness.

She winced when he talked to her. Everyone's eyes were now on her and she squeezed the tub, her knuckles all turned white and her pupils dilated. She couldn't get a word out of her mouth like she suddenly turned both mute and def. At that moment J'Ziir saw Raji in her. A tiny little girl, scared out of her mind, shoved into this world of adults where no one asked her opinion. No one cared for what she wanted, everyone just wanted to be rid of her.

"Don't be afraid, sweetheart," Lydia smiled to her. "Just speak your mind."

"I..I just wanted to sell vegetables with my mother," Mila squeaked. "Nothing more."

"Well, this doesn't help us at all!" Proventus sighed.

"She's gone, Mila," J'Ziir said patiently. "You know that, don't you? You can't sell fruits with her anymore. Now…it seems you might have a choice here, according to my lovely housecarl here."

"What choice?" Mila bit her lip nervously.

"Go with Proventus and travel to Riften," J'Ziir said. "The orphanage is a nice place. The old hag who used to run things is dead. You'd have many friends there and the lady who takes care of the children is kind and understanding. And someday a nice person comes along and gives you a real home. That doesn't so bad, does it?"

Lydia didn't like where this was going but she knew better than to interrupt him. She couldn't force J'Ziir to adopt Mila, no matter how much he was fond of her. Maybe her hopes were too high, maybe J'Ziir was right after all. She knew they were both gone for long periods of time and Breezehome stood empty and abandoned, often weeks at a time. She never even considered having a child of her own and she had no idea was that even possible with J'Ziir. Not that she didn't have a dream or two of their future, after the World-Eater's demise. But children were never part of that dream, it was just her and J'Ziir.

"And if I don't want to go?" Mila whispered. "You won't make me, right?"

Silence fell into the room. No one said a word. It was up to J'Ziir now, Lydia knew it. If he wanted to send her away, there was nothing she could do. And she was having a hard time believing that he would be ready to take such responsibility. She hardened herself and was prepared to say goodbyes to Mila. She even had time to practice everything in her mind, how she promised to visit her and come by as often as possible.

"Proventus," J'Ziir finally turned towards the Jarl's steward, looking almost bored. "This water is getting cold. Hand me the paper, then get out of my house and leave my family alone!"

Proventus cleared his throat trying to hide the fact that he was very offended. He rustled the papers way too long until he found the right document and J'Ziir yanked it out his hands. He reached out his hand and when Lydia didn't react, he snapped his fingers. Lydia flinched and handed him the pencil with numb fingers.

"This dried out," J'Ziir said with a dull voice and Lydia dipped quill into the ink bottle all over again.

She peeked over his shoulder and gasped. J'Ziir marked her as the child's mother. Then he paused for a moment and jotted his own name down, letting out a long and frustrated sigh. He crossed out the word "father" and marked himself as the guardian. He marked the date and the place, signed the document and handed it to Proventus.

"Good enough?" he asked and was barely able to cover his annoyance.

"I suppose this will do," the steward eyed the document and then wrinkled his nose. "A guardian?"

"That's none of your concern, Imperial!" J'Ziir's eyes burned with anger. "You have your precious documents, things should be in order. Now leave!"

Proventus glared at him, nodded, waved his hand to his companions and they left Breezehome. Lydia, Mila, and J'Ziir remained in the small back room. An awkward silence fell between them when the door was closed. J'Ziir moved in the tub and the slashing of water against the wooden edges was almost too loud.

"Well," Lydia finally spoke out. "That was…interesting."

"Lydia will take care of you from now on," J'Ziir glanced at Mila.

"You mean," Mila raised her chin. "I can…stay here? With you and Lydia?"

"Yes," J'Ziir yawned and tried to make it sound like it wasn't such a huge thing.

"For…how long?" Mila asked and stepped a little closer.

"For as long as you…need her, I guess," J'Ziir muttered.

"R...really?" Mila eyes lit up. "And they won't try to take me away from you anymore?"

"No," Lydia smiled. "No, they won't."

"Thank you!" Mila screamed, rushed ahead, wrapped her arms around J'Ziir and hugged him tightly. He drew back a little, trying his best not to get her wet but she didn't seem to care. "I promise I won't be in the way! I won't cause any trouble at all! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

"Your clothes are getting wet," J'Ziir mumbled but she refused to let go and then planted a long, sweet kiss on his cheek.

That caught him totally by surprise and as Lydia and Mila left the back room, talking and laughing and giggling, J'Ziir remained in the tub. The water was lukewarm, it didn't warm his muscles anymore and a thick layer of sweat and dirt floated on the surface. He slapped himself when he realized what he had just done. Out of frustration, he did something like this! Yes, he marked Lydia as Mila's adoptive mother. And yes, he marked himself as "a guardian". But how much that differed from father?

He wanted to believe that it was very different, that there was some major, drastic distinction between the two. But no matter how much he thought about it, there was no denying the situation. Mila was now officially Lydia's daughter. Lydia lived in Breezehome with him. And he shared the same bed with Lydia. They were in some kind of relationship; he knew of Lydia's feelings and was aware that she wanted to share her life with him. He couldn't really call himself  _father_ …no…he wasn't a father to Mila, would never be. But nevertheless, they were a  _family_  now. A weird, dysfunctional family. Somehow, from somewhere, he now had a child and an almost wife.

And that scared him more than dragons ever could.


	107. Chapter 107

**107.**

Very soon the realities of family life became obvious. He couldn't just tell Lydia to grab her gear and follow him whenever he felt like it. He realized that Mila had simply sold vegetables and fruits while living with Carlotta and he had no idea what the girl wanted to do from now on. There were no schools in Whiterun but Danica sometimes taught the children to read and write. He asked Mila did she know all that and the girl smiled and told him that of course, she did. She could even count, add and subtract and get the right answer, most of the time. When he asked him what she wanted to do, Mila grinned and said she wanted to join him in his adventures. His answer was a clear no and as soon as he told her so, she first begged him for an hour or two, and then batted her eyelashes, watch him with teary eyes and eventually gave up, pouted, locked the door to her room and only let Lydia inside. He was still thinking how to solve the current problem - with sweet rolls, a teddy bear –when Mila a few hours later ran downstairs with a smile on her face, pecked him on the cheek and rushed outside with Lars Battle-Born. When they left, Lydia screamed out that they were not, under any circumstances, allowed to climb up the reach but the two giggling kids barely heard her.

The people of Whiterun also changed their behavior towards him. Many saw him as their savior but also a generous and kind person who took in Carlotta's little orphan girl and didn't send her to the orphanage in Riften. He heard whispers and comments like " _what a good father he must be_ " and " _it's so nice that Lydia is finally settling down with the Dragonborn_ ". Whenever he heard someone wagging their tongue or gossip around like that, he turned and shot an ice cold stare at the speaker but to his great annoyance people of Whiterun just smiled and went about their business. His old reputation as an uncaring and cruel man was all but shattered. Now he was the kindest, dearest person in all of Whiterun, a father of the year! How he hated the rumors, hated the whispers, the advice that was given to him. When Fralia Grey-Mane, an old, wrinkly grandmother began reminiscing about the birth of her children, he turned on his heels and stormed away.

He visited Jorrvaskr and noticed that it too had become a regular love nest. Raji and Vilkas did nothing but cooed at each other, touched and smiled and kissed whenever they had a chance. And there too he was forced to listen how the recruits whispered about his past, how he used to be so terrifying, scared everyone around him, even just a look from him was enough to turn people to solid blocks of ice. And now he was just cuddly, little baby cave bear who wrapped his warm arms around his family and kept them safe and protected. When he finally had a chance to talk to his sister in private, he noticed how she kept smiling like a silly little girl.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked with a dry voice.

"Oh, nothing," Sura chuckled. "I just heard something remarkable. Congratulations on becoming a father!"

"Not you as well!" J'Ziir rolled his eyes. "I've heard enough of chattering and cooing to last for the rest of my life. Just because Lydia had her way this once doesn't mean that I suddenly turned into something I'm not."

"So, it was Lydia's idea," Sura nodded but that knowing smile remained at her face.

"Stop that," J'Ziir told her. "I could just as easily throw them both out if I wanted."

"Could you?" Sura asked. "I heard you signed the legal documents and everything."

"As if that means anything," he muttered.

"However it happened, I'm glad you didn't send her to Riften," Sura finally said. "I'm sure Carlotta would appreciate what you did."

"She's dead," J'Ziir shrugged. "I don't think her opinion matters anymore."

Sura didn't argue with him but she firmly believed that Lydia wasn't the only reason he accepted Mila into his house. His heart was beginning to melt, slowly but surely. Since he wasn't very eager to hear of his good deeds, Sura was willing to drop the subject. She was interested to hear what happened at the Throat of the World and how this all was connected.

"So," J'Ziir began. "The Companions are still standing strong?"

"Couple of promising recruits was lost during the attack," Sura told him. "And later we found Njada dead."

"Not a very big loss then," J'Ziir stated and when Sura frowned, he snorted. "Well, it's not like you were attached to her in any way."

"Still," Sura sighed. "Show some respect."

"To who?" J'Ziir crossed his arms. "To her? Are you serious? Why should I remember her with any warm feelings? Have you forgotten what she was like?"

"I remember," Sura admitted. "But in the end, she fought for the people of Whiterun."

"Did she?" J'Ziir gave her a bitter laugh. "Or did she simply fight for her own worthless existence? Its people's own hide that turns out be the most important thing."

"I was wondering when the real you would show its face," Sura said. "But here he is now. Didn't need to wait that long."

"Every word is true," J'Ziir stated. "Just ask the first person that comes along would he save himself or the one standing by his side. We love ourselves more than anything else in this world."

"I have no intention of getting dragged into such conversation with you," Sura told him, stood up and placed a piece of an apple pie in front of him. "Have something sweet, maybe that will wash away most of the bitterness."

He grunted but took the pie she offered. She knew he wouldn't tell her much if he was in a bad mood. That's why she decided to butter him up a little, make him feel like someone cared. That if she was the one standing next to him, she would always choose to save him first. She handed him a bottle of mead and waited for a while for him to finish.

"What happened up there?" Sura finally asked. Her question was straight and short and he was prepared to give an answer that would match her inquiry.

"Faced the World-Eater," J'Ziir replied. "Sent his ugly ass into Sovngarde where he now devours the souls of the dead."

"Sovngarde?" Sura cocked her eyebrow. "Really?"

"You asked and I answered," he snorted.

"How did you do that?" Sura's eyes widened.

"I had some help," J'Ziir scratched his back. "Any more pie left?"

"Who helped you?" Sura handed him another piece and he munched it down before he answered.

"Heroes of the Nords," he grinned mockingly. "I bet even Ulfric himself would feel humble in such company. If he'd been there, he would have told them that I'm not a true Nord and therefore not worthy of their help. Being the way I am and all that."

"Which heroes?" Sura continued.

"Now that I think about it," J'Ziir rubbed his chin. "They weren't really there. I traveled back in time. Through the Tiid-Ahraan."

"Are you using some foreign language now?" Sura asked.

"Am I?" J'Ziir glanced at her.

He was sure he talked to her the way he always did. He didn't even notice if one or two of Paarthurnax's words slipped into his mouth. But what he did notice was that it was sometimes easier to think with the ancient language of the dragons. He was learning it pretty fast. He liked gathering new words, which was the only good thing in this whole situation. He was sure his father would have been ecstatic to learn everything and he would probably spend hours and hours analyzing every word until he discovered how and where it came from.

"It doesn't matter," J'Ziir finally said. "Alduin is banished from Skyrim for now."

"But he is not dead, is he?" Sura observed.

"Is there a way to get to Sovngarde without dying?" J'Ziir noted. "Not that I know of. And I'd rather stay alive for as long as I can."

"It seems that you changed your mind," Sura's eyes narrowed. "I remember there was a time when it didn't matter what happened to you."

J'Ziir didn't answer but knew she was right. There had been such a time indeed. And it wasn't that long ago when he thought about it. Most of his adult life revenge was the only thing that mattered to him. He escaped the elves, left Beelei to die, and returned to Skyrim…all for revenge. He never cared for the titles that were placed upon him, the Dragonborn and the Guild-Master. And he didn't care for the people that shared this world with him because he was always careful not let anyone too close, not to trust anyone too much. His own death didn't matter to him; he had nothing left to live for anymore. He only wanted to end Ulfric and then be done with it.

But now…there was Raji. The first and the biggest reason to care and trust. And then there was Lydia. Another reason to stay alive and continue on. And suddenly there was also Mila, an orphan he had just adopted and promised to take care of. When he thought about it all, a deep line carved its way down his forehead and he rubbed his temples, trying to fight a headache that began to thrum somewhere deep inside his brain.

"Too much family around to give up now?" Sura teased him.

"Family?" J'Ziir huffed. "More like too many responsibilities. Just one duty after another. You can hardly call that a reason to fight for."

"If that's the case, then why don't you head to Windhelm, kill Ulfric and then end this foolish quest for revenge?" Sura suggested. "No more duties after that then. Who knows, maybe a great hero like you will be welcomed to Sovngarde and you get your soul devoured by the World-Eater after all. What a nice ending, isn't it?"

"You're no fun anymore," J'Ziir crossed his arms. "How come I'm the one who's trying to see the bright side of things?"

"You don't see the bright side!" Sura laughed. "You wouldn't see the good things in your life if someone slapped you in the face with them."

"And what good things are those?" J'Ziir leaned closer with a grin on his face. "Tell me, oh great Harbinger of the Companions. All knowing, all seeing."

"Lydia and Mila," Sura said with a soft but stern voice. "Those good things. Be careful, J'Ziir. You lost your family once. I'd hate to see you lose them all over again."


	108. Chapter 108

**108.**

Breezehome was beginning to feel a bit too small for the three of them. Lydia had her old small room redecorated for Mila and when his housecarl permanently moved into his room, J'Ziir immediately felt that his privacy was gone for good. He didn't join Lydia in the same bed anymore and the less he slept the more irritated he became. He started to snap and make nasty remarks. Smallest of things annoyed him. Lydia knew him so she usually tolerated his insults and waved them off as part of his nature but it was different with Mila. He had always been patient with her and to the end, he tried to keep his mouth shut. But when he one day he straight out yelled to her because of some meaningless little thing and saw her lower lip tremble, he knew something had to be done.

Things couldn't go on the way they were. Breezehome was simply too small. He sat up the whole night and finally sent a short, clear message to Brynjolf. He had lots of contacts so he might know someone who could help him out. The red-headed thief didn't answer but after a few days, a group of sturdy men stood outside his door. They were carrying pickaxes and other tools and as they strolled inside, one of them stopped and asked him what he wanted. When he simply stared, the man nudged him in the shoulder and told him that they were the best rock builders in Markarth. Be it stone, dirt or wood, they knew how to handle everything.

He didn't really have anything particular in mind but he told them he wanted more privacy in his house, bigger rooms, and more space. The chief toured the house, looked over every room and then suggested that they dug down. There wasn't much room to build on top, but they could carve out a large cellar, maybe even an emergency exit. J'Ziir waved his hand and told them to do whatever they wanted. As long as he'd have a room or two for himself.

Lydia questioned him about the remodeling. He only said that shouldn't a Thane of Whiterun and the legendary Dragonborn have a house that would match his name and reputation. And so the men began to dig. They tore the floorboards off and dug down between the main staircase and the backroom. It took days and countless nights and the endless banging and clanging and clinking almost drove them all mad. It was like living inside a mine where a group of miners constantly dug up precious ores and gemstones. Finally, after two or three weeks of constant noise, dirty jokes, endless whistles towards Lydia and lots of cursing which began to take hold on Mila, the headman called him downstairs to have a look. He was completely taken back and impressed with what they had done. A large, spacious cellar was now located under the house. It had two smaller side rooms with lockable doors. Since Markarth was built on top of an old dwemer city, the builders learned a lot from their machinery and used some of those old, fancy tricks and added some luxuries that no one else in Whiterun had. He had dwemer pipes downstairs that warmed the water. He had valves and levers he could use to lower the water into a massive bathtub which was made out of solid rock but felt as smooth as leather. It was scraped and polished and all the rough edges and fringes were gone. It was made for bathing and cleaning and it had a wooden plug in the bottom where the water could be drained. It could also be used for luxury and for relaxing. It had four seats made out of stone and two large pipes leading to its sides. When he pulled a small lever next to it, he could even add some air bubbles into the water.

The men had carved a huge bookshelf into the back wall. Next to it was a massive fireplace that was connected to the smoking stack upstairs. If he lit it up, the warmth would spread through the whole house and the large stone stack would keep the place warm even during the coldest nights. Right next to it was a small lever hidden behind an ugly painting of a dragon. If he pressed it, a narrow passage opened up and led to right outside the main walls of the city. The other end was covered by rocks and pushes so it was hard to notice from outside. The two big rooms were left empty and he could decorate them however he wished. The chief explained that the walls kept the heat out, were absolutely soundproof and he was like a vampire in his coffin when he closed the doors. He wouldn't notice if the rest of the city burned down on top of him.

J'Ziir glanced at the men and wondered where Brynjolf found them. Maybe it was better not to ask since they were doing an excellent work and curious questions might just cause trouble. Since they were done with the cellar, he asked them was there any way to make the rooms upstairs a bit larger. The chief toured the house again, came back down and said it would take some time but they might be able to do something.

His "something" meant another two weeks of endless sawing, banging of the nails and hammers. Mila learned a few new exotic swear words and Lydia tried her best to keep her away from the builders. When they finally got to see the changes upstairs, both Mila and Lydia stood there slack-jawed and J'Ziir just tried to look satisfied, no matter how impressed or content he was. They had extended the main bedroom with a balcony. The ugly, old bed was modified, it had a huge wooden headboard, a small shelf on top of that and it was turned to the other wall. Two smaller cabinets were placed on both sides. There was a door leading to the balcony, a couple of nice looking chairs were placed in the corners and the whole room felt different and more comfortable. In the smaller bedroom, they managed to lift the roof higher, move the back wall further away to the right and add a couple more windows. Someone had made a small practice dummy for Mila and placed it next to the wall and the girl screamed of joy when she saw it. Lydia frowned but said nothing. When J'Ziir asked them how much all of this was worth, the whole silent group marched downstairs and out of the door. The chief informed him that all the expenses were covered and whistled to Lydia one last time. Mila sent them out using one of those eccentric curse words and Lydia sighed. J'Ziir sent another message to Brynjolf and asked what he needed to do to pay for all this fun they had. He got an answer, although a very short one.

"C _ome to Riften, Aura needs help!_ "

When he finally returned to Whiterun, five days later, he felt like his jaw was aching because of all the talking. Brynjolf really knew how to set things in motion and he had no doubt that the young Imperial woman would be made Jarl of Riften within few short weeks. He entered Breezehome and was almost knocked over by the two rampaging children that were messing and playing around in the main hall. Mila and Lars were running up and down the stairs, both screaming and shouting and laughing. Lydia peeked from behind the counter and carried some food to the table. J'Ziir avoided her, dodged Lars and jumped out of Mila's way and hurried down the stars, to the cellar. He slammed the door shut and was greeted by a heavenly silence. The thick stone walls prevented the sounds from traveling downstairs, just like the builders said and a long sigh of relief erupted from his chest when he stripped his armor off. Before going to Riften, he managed to buy a huge bed from one of the Khajiit caravans and they even carried it down to his house. He spread his arms and fell down to the soft mattress. The room was cool and dark and empty and quiet. Everything he needed right now.

He woke up hours later, still entombed in his chamber. He opened the door and found a small tray behind it, filled with food and an apology letter from Lydia. It was quite long and winding, she was clearly trying to ease her guilty conscience and while he ate, he eyed her words and chuckled to himself. Lydia sure knew how to put her feelings down with words. The ruckus in upstairs had quieted down. He walked to the living room and glanced outside. It was dark and peaceful, only the night guards made their rounds in the small paths around the city. He set the plate on the table and crept upstairs. The big bedroom was empty and untouched. He half expected to see Lydia's familiar shape underneath the covers but she was nowhere to be found. Finally, he peeked into Mila's room. And there they both were. Mila sleeping on her bed and Lydia by her side, sleeping in her bedroll on the floor. He didn't really know what to make of it. If she didn't sleep in the main bedroom, then this whole rebuilding project was meaningless.

He entered the room and quietly lifted her up from the floor. She mumbled something but didn't wake up. He carried her to the main bedroom, pulled the covers aside and laid her on the mattress. Then he joined her, wrapped his arms around her, covered them both with warm blankets and breathed in the scent of her hair. He didn't remember a time when he'd share a bed with a woman and only wanted to lay next to her, just sleep by her side. Such sentimentality was never part of his life. Lydia sighed and pressed herself tighter against him. In that warm, cozy embrace he began to understand what it was like to live with a real family. Live with the people who cared for you and loved you. Who only wanted what was best for you.

As the night surrounded them, he laid there awake for a long, long time, just listening to her calm breathing. Her heart was beating and she was drifting in a strange dream world, where he had no entrance. He almost felt jealous for not being a part of that landscape but when she muttered his name in her sleep, he smiled to himself. There he was, even when she was not awake. Occupying her mind. It was dangerous, Lydia had no business of thinking about him that much. But he was forced to admit that he thought about her almost the same amount, whether he was asleep or awake. He took a deep breath and for a brief, temporary moment he shut down all his defenses, lowered the entire wall around his soul and his heart. It was scary and it was difficult and he felt immediately naked and helpless.

"I…think I…might…maybe… _love you,_ " he whispered, very, very quietly in the dark. He was barely able to hear his own words so it scared him twice as much when Lydia smiled against his neck.

"I know you do," she murmured with a sleepy voice.

She didn't say anything more and then she relaxed against him and continued her adventures in her dreamland. J'Ziir lay awake for hours. And before Lydia woke up in the next morning, he was already far away from Whiterun. When he thought about that moment many, many days later, when he had no reason to continue on, he was glad he told her before the end.


	109. Chapter 109

**109.**

Clearing the rubble, burying the dead and rebuilding the burned down houses. After a month after the attack, Whiterun was beginning its long, long way to recovery. Jarl Balgruuf himself led the burial rites when all those who lost their lives in the deadly dragon attack were sent to Sovngarde. All those who survived attended and lowered their heads when the Priest of Arkay gave them their last rites.

And it wasn't long before the Jarl began hearing worrying news from the North. Like J'Ziir, he was also aware of the fact that the war was moving. He heard of Legate Fasendil and the fact that he managed to take Riften from the Stormcloacks. But he was very, very surprised to hear of a new candidate for the position of the Jarl of Riften. A young, inexperienced  _Imperial_. And he was even more astonished to learn that the people of Riften actually supported her and wanted her as their new Jarl. As the Jarl of Whiterun, he didn't have time to concentrate on such things and he soon turned his attention to his own people and to those that needed help. He ordered the reconstruction of the Market although it was still unclear who would take on the responsibilities of Innkeeper, alchemy shop and the general good store.

It was during one of the busy afternoons when Dragonsreach was filled with people, Proventus was buried in paperwork up to his neck and the Jarl and his housecarl Irileth were making their rounds down in the Market. Jarl Balgruuf only now began to notice how he missed his brother Hrongar. He heard that Lydia was thankfully doing alright and he criticized his steward for the way he handled the orphan situation in Whiterun. Of course, there was no need to drag Commander Caius to catch the children. But he was pleased to hear that the situation was resolved peacefully.

A young Nord approached the Jarl and his housecarl. He was dressed in a blue armor and carried a big ax on his back. Irileth saw him coming and stepped forward, pulled out her sword and frowned. That's all they needed, she thought. That someone tried to attack the Jarl in the middle of the square, after everything that happened. Well, she was here to make sure no such things took place and her posture was confident and threatening as she stepped forward.

"What is the meaning of this?" Irileth asked with a stern voice. "Who are you?"

"I am to deliver a message to the Jarl of Whiterun," the young man said. "It is time for him to pick a side in the war."

Jarl Balgruuf turned to the young man. He didn't waste time and pulled out Ulfric Stormcloak's war ax, dropped it to the Jarl's feet and waited. His face was serious and filled with contemplation. He could not understand how all the Nords of Skyrim were not united under the single banner, why they did not fight for a single goal, to make Skyrim independent, drive the Imperials away from their lands, throw all the elves and other magic users out and show them that Nords were not to be trifled with.

"Now he wants to make his move?" Irileth growled. "After months of waiting."

"He knows we are vulnerable now," Jarl Balgruuf said. "A perfect opportunity for him."

"But Windhelm was attacked as well," Irileth murmured. "And I heard the Dragonborn never showed his face in there."

Jarl Balgruuf ordered the young man to follow him up in the Dragonsreach. He did but that mocking, diminishing look didn't disappear from his face. He would have rather been somewhere else, doing some heroic deed than run as the messenger boy between Windhelm and Whiterun. They discussed the situation for a long time, the pros and cons and finally, Jarl Balgruuf decided to invite the Dragonborn and the Harbinger of the Companions up to the reach. He sent two messengers on their way and within an hour they were both in the great hall. Sura arrived with Vilkas and J'Ziir came by himself. He was a bit embarrassed when he explained that Lydia remained in Breezehome with Mila. Sura giggled and J'Ziir glared at her but hardly anyone else paid any attention to that. The Jarl presented them with the ax that was brought to him.

"Jarl Ulfric from Windhelm sent me his ax today," he told them. "Now, I would like your opinions on this matter."

"Why would he send his ax to you?" Sura asked. She was not familiar with all the Nordic customs, no matter how many years she lived in the Dragonsreach and among the Nords.

"It's a simple of way of knowing who your ally is," Vilkas explained. "If he keeps the ax, you know he is on your side. If he sends it back, you can cut his head off with it when you get a chance."

"To put it bluntly," Jarl Balgruuf nodded.

"Send it back," J'Ziir stated. "I will not stay around if Whiterun joins forces with Ulfric!"

"Believe me, I have no interest in joining Ulfric's rebellion," Jarl Balgruuf assured him. "But I have to think what's best for the people of Whiterun. This city is only now recuperating. If the Stormcloak's attack, there will be nothing left of us. I can't take that chance."

"So what?" J'Ziir crossed his arms. "You're just going to accept them as allies?"

"That's why I asked both of you up here," Jarl Balgruuf said patiently. "To hear your opinions and make a decision that is best for everyone in Whiterun."

"If you send the ax back," Sura tilted her head. "Does it mean Ulfric will immediately launch an attack towards Whiterun?"

"Sending the ax back means that Whiterun stands with the Empire," Vilkas noted. "We might have time to send a message to General Tullius in Solitude."

"As if they cared," J'Ziir shook his head. "Solitude suffered as much damage as Whiterun, maybe even more. They have their hands full with the reconstruction."

"Losing Riften must have angered him even more," Jarl Balgruuf pondered. "And to get back on to his feet, he must have Whiterun by any means possible. If he succeeds and Whiterun succumbs to the Stormcloaks, the Empire will have a much bigger problem on their hands."

"All the more reason to decline," J'Ziir stated.

"Can Whiterun withstand an attack from the Stormcloaks?" Vilkas said. "That's the thing we should be most worried about."

"True," Jarl Balgruuf nodded.

"How long will he wait?" Sura asked. "He wants some kind of an answer, whether it's yes or no. Could we make a small detour on the way?"

"We?" Vilkas glanced at him. "What do you mean " _we_ "?"

"Well, it's not like he has to deliver the answer to Ulfric," Sura pointed at the soldier who was still waiting and looking incredibly bored. "Might as well be me."

"No!" J'Ziir's eyes flashed.

"He's right!" Vilkas agreed. "You're not going!"

"I wasn't aware I had to ask anyone's permission," Sura pressed her lips together.

An awkward silence fell into the hall after her words. J'Ziir frowned and Vilkas' jaw clenched. Sending her to danger was something both men wanted to avoid. But they knew she was going to make her own decision regardless of what either of them said or did. And Vilkas knew his wife was far from stupid. He doubted she would just walk in the viper's nest without any precautions. And since she wouldn't be going alone, that made things a little easier for him. To be able to accompany her and stand by her side in difficult times like these. And to know he was able to do something, protect her if anything happened.

"Entering that city by yourself will get you killed," J'Ziir finally said. "I won't allow it."

"I'm not going alone," Sura took Vilkas's hand. "We are going together."

"Better than nothing then," J'Ziir folded his arms. "But don't think you and the wolf can handle all of Windhelm by yourself."

"Why do you want to go there anyway?" Vilkas looked at his wife. "You know they won't welcome you with open arms. Even less now that they know who you are."

"Maybe I just need to see him," Sura replied. "And ask him why he did it."

"You know why!" J'Ziir growled. "No need to ask questions or have long, winding talks. Just cut his head off when you get a chance."

"I'll deliver his ax," Sura said to the Jarl. "If that's the decision you're making."

"It has to be," Jarl Balgruuf nodded after thinking a while. "I'll risk an attack to Whiterun, but I won't ally myself with Ulfric."

"You have time to prepare," Sura explained. "As I said, we need to make a small detour on the way."


	110. Chapter 110

**110.**

Winterhold was as inviting as always. Cold, snowy, distant and remote. A small village at the edges of the Sea of Ghosts. The wind was blowing from the ocean and the town was huddled up, people inside their small shacks and the only place open at the time was the Inn. Vilkas half expected them to stop there, rent a room and continue their journey in the morning. It would have been a most logical choice but Sura headed through the village and jumped down from her mare right in front of the College. Vilkas remembered the last time he visited Winterhold and particularly the College. It felt very surreal to walk up the stone ramp and be greeted by the same elven woman. And like once before, she refused to let an outsider into the College. Sura took off her necklace, handed it to her and asked her if she could take it to the Arch-Mage and tell him they were waiting. Reluctantly she took it and told them to wait.

Vilkas didn't ask why they were here. He knew Sura would explain when and if she felt like it. So far the only thing she told him was that her father was once a member of the College, a master wizard. But that was many, many years ago. In his diary, he mentioned some of his belongings that still resided inside the building and they were here to collect them. As to what those things were, she didn't elaborate. Not because she didn't want to but she knew how Vilkas usually wasn't that interested in magic. He didn't deny its usefulness anymore, but he preferred to have solid steel in his hands in a middle of a heated battle.

The elven woman returned, told them to follow her and let them over the treacherous stone bridge and into the wide courtyard. Arch-Mage Aren greeted them with open arms. He handed the necklace back to Sura. He was glad to see her well and alive but admitted that he didn't doubt Jo'Azirr's spells. The man always checked and double checked all his experiments and when it came to his children, he was extra careful and left nothing to chance. As they stood there and talked, the Arch-Mage noticed how his old friend's daughter was very different from her brother and still so incredibly familiar and like her father. She had the same manner of speaking; she moved her hands the elaborately when she tried to explain something, her eyes darted from one place to another and observed the environment. And she didn't seem nervous or scared at all.

"Now then," Arch-Mage Aren asked. "How can I help you?"

"Well, since my father was a master wizard and here worked here for a while," Sura began. "He must have left some things behind."

"He did, but I gave all his notes and his diary to your brother," Arch-Mage Aren said.

"I know," Sura nodded. "And I read them. But there is still something here that he left…for me to find."

"I see," the Arch-Mage stroked his beard. "If it helps, I can show you his old study and quarters."

"No need, thank you," Sura smiled. "He hid something underneath the College."

"Underneath?" Arch-Mage Aren raised his eyebrows. "The only place I can guide you then is the Midden. But that's just an old ruin beneath the College. It's not the nicest place, cold, hostile, even dangerous."

"Then that's where we need to go," Sura's eyes lit up. "Can you show us how to get there?"

"If you insist," Arch-Mage Aren nodded and let them to a remote corner in the courtyard.

There was a small hatch on the ground, almost completely covered by snow and ice. Vilkas glanced at Sura and his eyes asked her did she really want to wander down there. She nodded, no hesitation in her mind, she was almost excited, and he rolled his eyes, sighed and knelt down next to the hatch. The handle was rusted and old and almost came out in his hand. He used his sword to force it open and it groaned open with a low, agonizing creak. He looked down and saw a small, rickety ladder leading somewhere in the deep, icy depths. By Ysmir, the though. It didn't look inviting in the least.

"Are you sure this is where you need to be?" Arch-Mage Aren asked. He was very doubtful that Jo'Azirr had been down there at some point, much less hidden something in the Middens. The place was nearly forgotten, no one in the College visited there these days.

"Yes, I believe this is it," Sura smiled at him. "Thank you for all your help. You're a good man despite…Labyrinthian."

The old Dunmer flinched and took a few steps back. There was a look of horror and shock in his face. How did this Khajiit girl know about that? He'd buried the events deep in his past and made sure no one else knew. Then he remembered Jo'Azirr and his gift of foreseeing. Maybe his daughter inherited some of his talents. He was about to ask how she knew, maybe even deny ever being in there, but the young, white-haired woman already turned away from him and climbed down the ladder following her husband.

As Sura reached the bottom of the narrow hole, she wondered herself what made her say those words. While looking at the old Arch-Mage, a sharp, clear vision suddenly came to her mind and she saw something that happened long, long ago. The Arch-Mage was in an old Nordic ruin with a group of other people. He was forced to sacrifice the others for…something. And he carried the guilt of his actions with him to this day. Maybe she just wanted to tell him that he should finally let go of that quilt.

"What are we looking down here?" Vilkas asked when she joined him.

"Something," Sura said and he watched her with a doubtful look on his face. "It's hard to explain. I don't know myself, really. But we'll know when we see it."

"If we see it," Vilkas muttered. He didn't want to tell her that this whole thing seemed like a wild-goose chase to him.

"Do you know what this reminds me of?" Sura whispered to him when they slowly moved forward.

"Riften?" Vilkas replied and she giggled behind him. "When we were looking for your mother's secret hideout. At least we didn't have to solve any riddles this time."

"You never know," Sura said. "My father might have been extra crafty."

They continued on. Vilkas was on the lead, his sword out and his shield on his other hand and Sura followed him. Everywhere she looked was justice and snow and eerie blue glow. The glacier moaned and cracked around them like it was having nightmares that lasted for thousands of years. They encountered few draugrs and couple of small frostbites and when those laid dead on the ground, Vilkas grinned to her and asked did she remember what happened last time when they slaughtered a bunch of frostbites. Sura's eyes sparkled; she blushed and said of course she did. If they weren't in one of the coldest places in Skyrim, searching for something her father had hidden down here, she might have wanted to repeat that joyous scene they experienced together in the Rift's forests. Neither of them was able to stop smiling for the next fifteen minutes or so.

They found a small clearing at the end of one the hallways. In the middle of the room a weird, five-fingered hand that was placed on a stone altar. When she saw it she knew immediately that it wasn't the thing her father left behind. A strange ornament like that, so visible and easily spotted. No, it wasn't that. There was a small table pushed against the wall and old bones, dirt and chunks of ice and rock littered the floor. Something else in this area called out to her. She lit the few of the torches that were set on the walls and as the darkness fled, she saw what she was looking for.

A small, wooden chest. Pushed against the wall, right beneath the table. It was difficult to see even in this light and she didn't wonder why her father brought it here. She knelt down, wiped the cobwebs aside and pulled the chest out. It was light and easy to pick up and lay it to the table. Vilkas joined her and they both stared at the mysterious little box. It had no lock; no seems to indicate it could be opened. It was like a solid block of wood and Sura had no idea how to unlock it. She highly doubted it was meant to be broken or smashed.

"What did you just say about riddles?" Sura's eyes sparkled with laughter when she looked at Vilkas.

"I was hoping this would be a bit easier," Vilkas sighed. "But looks like it's not. Any idea how to open it? Do we use some old, childhood memory or perhaps a lullaby to unlock it?"

"Might be a certain spell," Sura guessed. "But I don't think it's something too difficult. He wouldn't send me here for nothing."

"Are you sure it's meant to open now?" Vilkas asked. "Maybe we have to wait for a specific time."

"He told me it contains something dangerous," Sura explained. "If I don't open it here and now and decide what to do, it might fall into the wrong hands later."

"I'll guess we'll be here a while then," Vilkas said.

Sura held the chest in her hands, turned it around and thought about her father. She remembered his words. " _I found it a long time ago. It was a mistake, I should have never gone down that path, I should have never taken it with me_ _. When you find the other spell…you need to destroy it. So it will never fall into the wrong hands."_ He told her where to find them but he never said he locked them inside this small box. Why didn't you tell me how to open it when you sent me here?

_"Didn't I? I thought the answer was obvious. It's with you all the time. You are carrying it around your neck."_

She touched her necklace and realized that it was the only thing that linked her to her deceased parents. She took it off and as it brushed against the chest, the familiar, blue glow surrounded them. She looked at Vilkas and smiled. He seemed less convinced but he was willing to follow her lead, for now.

"It seems I was wrong," his eyebrow's rose. "You have the key with you. Unless it's a trap and it blows us and the whole College up in the air. I'm sure rest of Winterhold would appreciate that."

She took the necklace between her palms, closed her eyes and recited the spell that activated the Eye. She didn't have the other half with her but when she opened her eyes, something happened. The small chest reacted to the presence of the necklace and to the spell. A thin line appeared and with a quiet click, the lid opened a little. It couldn't be that easy, Sura thought. If this spell that father hid here was so dangerous, he wouldn't let it be released so easily. She touched the chest and immediately she felt how her fingertips began to tingle. Another spell blocked her entrance. It took almost half an hour to disarm all the spells and traps her father used to protect the chest. She was almost out of her magical powers by then and she began to feel the drainage in her body.

"I…think it's almost done," Sura breathed out.

"Just rest for a while," Vilkas suggested when he saw how tired was.

"I'll be fine," Sura smiled to him weakly.

She leaned forward and opened the chest. It was big enough for three scrolls and that's exactly the amount her father stored there.  _Three_? she wondered. What's the third one? Father never mentioned three. She reached out, took the one laying on top and rolled it open. In the topmost corner, she saw writing and recognized her father's handwriting.  _"Use this if you head to Windhelm. Ulfric will not let you go, so you have to be clever and deceive him."_  She studied the scroll and was amazed to find that over twenty years ago, her father had seen this as well and prepared for it. The spell looked rather simple and easy to master and she tucked it away. Then she took the second scroll and without even opening it, she knew what it was.

( _Return to us!)_

Her hands were trembling and she didn't know was she meant to open it now or later. Later, he heart whispered. Look at it later. No need to trouble yourself with that right now. It might not even happen. Maybe it was just a precaution. She stuffed the scroll inside her knapsack and then turned her attention to the last one. It lay there, on the bottom of the chest. Just a normal looking scroll, nothing strange or weird about it. A very innocent looking piece of paper. And yet…she could feel it. Like it wanted to reach out, slither inside her brain and take her over. There was no one alive who knew how to use it but she began to understand why her father wanted it destroyed. The spell sought power; it sought people who wanted to use it, who needed to use it. It contorted your feelings, your emotions. Your inner self. It turned you into something you weren't. It was hungry and it wanted control.

Oh, father! she thought. Why did you take this spell with you? And showed it to Ulfric of all people? she asked and the answer came immediately.  _"It was never meant for him or for anyone else. Like I said, a mistake. Part of my endless hunger to know more, to learn more. I used to think that there was nothing I couldn't learn. Nothing I couldn't control. Turns out there is. You need to destroy it. Quick. You are strong but Vilkas is not."_

She glanced at her husband as saw the strange look in his eyes. He stared the scroll, tore his eyes away and then, like it forced him to watch, to absorb, he turned back. She began to realize it was a mistake to bring him here. He wasn't a mage but the spell reached out to anyone. She took the scroll in her hands and felt such a strong need to rip it open and absorb it that she was barely able to hold herself back. She tossed it to the floor and Vilkas stepped away, almost ran, just to be out of its way. Away from those clawing, ghostly fingers that scratched his skull and whispered dangerous truths inside his mind. Sura didn't know did she have anything strong enough to destroy it. But it was her father's spell. He obtained it, he must have given her sufficient weapons against it. She took a step back and then launched a fireball. It took a while, almost seemed like it was covered with a protective ward but then, slowly the flames consumed it. Swallowed it. It screamed, out of anger, out of rage and they both heard it echoing inside their minds. They felt a strange, nagging need to rush forward, grab it and extinguish the fire. Have it for themselves. When the scroll finally turned into ash, after a long, long time, she heard a quiet sigh of relief.

_"It's done. I knew you had it in you. You're a brave girl, my dear."_

It was your life's work, father. Your heritage, Sura thought.

_"No. You and your brother were my life's work. My two masterpieces. If I had time to study you and him, it would take whole other lifetime. You two are my greatest creations. And how ironic, I didn't need magic to make you and him come to this world. Don't be sad, dear. I harbored a monster and you had the power to destroy it. Makes me proud to know that I was able to add some good into this world, after all the mistakes I made."_

You never should have taken it in the first place, Sura replied.

_"I knew how. And I paid a price for that knowledge."_

Just because you can do something, doesn't always mean you should, Sura answered. Her father didn't respond, maybe he didn't know how or what to say. He was dead and like he said, he paid a heavy price for his research. But it wasn't only him suffered for it, Sura sighed. I suffered, J'Ziir suffered. And mother died as well. Was it worth it in the end? she asked. Was it?

_"Our lives for this world. It was always worth it."_


	111. Chapter 111

**111.**

They continued on from Winterhold and arrived at the edges of Windhelm a day or two later. They made a camp on the small ridge not far from the city. The town was clearly visible from they stood, its snowy shapes and silhouettes, its massive stone gate and the bridge that led over the frozen river. Before the night they sat down by the fire and Sura opened and studied the scroll she took from Winterhold. It didn't take her long to learn the spell and she was amazed. For such a complicated and realistic spell it didn't need that much power. It wasn't a destruction spell but a conjuration. She was eager to try it out but she knew that explaining it to Vilkas would be very, very complicated. He would probably just frown and tell her to stop with the magical nonsense. It was easier to demonstrate. The next morning she was up before he made it out of their tent. Their campsite was quite remote so she believed they had plenty of time before anyone from Windhelm found them. And that's why Vilkas had to stay here, to make sure no one would find this place before she was back.

"Are we heading out or what?" he asked her after they ate a quick breakfast.

"Not exactly," she avoided his gaze. "You...have to stay here."

"What? Are you insane?" his brows snapped together. "There's no way I'm going to let you walk there by yourself! Forget it!"

"I need you to guard me," Sura took his hand. "You trust me, don't you?"

"You know I do," Vilkas pulled his hand away. He was furious. The day after another chasing some illusive magical artifact, dangerous traps and spells littered in their way and now Sura wanted him to stay behind while she just walked blindly ahead. "I'm not going to stand by and let you do something incredibly stupid!"

"This is the only way I can enter Windhelm safely," Sura tried to calm him down. "The only way I can go there and come back without being hurt."

"We should never have come here!" Vilkas began packing their things. "This was has nothing to do with the Companions. The only reason I agreed to come here was that you wanted some kind of closure and…"

She entered their tent and pulled the covers on. He glanced back and couldn't believe his eyes. They rarely argued. And now when he tried his best to make her see the realities of this situation, she just denied it, ignored him and isolated herself like a little girl, pouting in her room, not even bothering to answer him. He didn't mean to hurt her but there were times when she was completely irrational, not caring for her own safety at all, just rushing towards some distant goal without a care in the world. And when that happened, he felt like he needed to step up, catch her and pull her behind her, to shield her from danger. And the only way he knew how was to keep her out of harm's way.

"Will you guard me while I'm gone?" Sura suddenly asked. Her voice was strange and distant. It had an echo like she called out to him from somewhere far, far away.

He jerked around and his eyes widened, from fear, from worry, from pure amazement. She stood there, in front of the tent. Not hiding, not pouting, not isolating herself at all. She hadn't changed into some weird monstrosity; she was the same as always. Dressed in her stalhrim armor, her hair white and flapping in the wind. Jarl Ulfric's war ax was strapped on her back and it was the only thing that seemed solid. She was floating, undulating, like a magical vortex of some sort. He blinked and rubbed his eyes but he could still see through her. The edges of the tent, the shape of the snow pile behind her. She was a see-through illusion, a ghost of her herself.

"Oh…you can still see through me?" Sura saw his expression and when he was barely able to nod. She closed her eyes and her frame became more solid, more lifelike and realistic. "What about now?"

"What…is this?" Vilkas stood up, walked to her and tried to touch her. His hand slid right through like she was a hallucination, only a vision of his beloved wife. He gasped, took a step back and almost fell to the ground.

"It's a spell," Sura assured him. "Don't be alarmed. I'm perfectly safe. Just take a look in the tent."

He circled her, avoided her and pulled open the covers to their small, leathery tent. And there she was, lying on her bedroll, covered by warm blankets. She looked like she was just sleeping. Vilkas crawled closer, touched her and felt her warm skin and heard her steady breathing.

"I'm not dead if that's what you are worried," Sura comforted him but he didn't know what to believe anymore. Here she was, in two places at the same time. Her body lying here and her…mind…spirit, whatever…standing next to him and smiling.

"A spell?" he backed out of the tent. "What in Oblivion...a spell?"

"It's sort of a conjuration," she explained like it was nothing out of ordinary. "A reflection of myself. My body stays here, in the tent, safe and sound. I can go to Windhelm like this, deliver the ax and Jarl Balgruuf's answer without being in any real danger. But I need you to keep an eye on me. Be ready to leave if they come to find us. If you don't have time to do anything else, just grab me and go."

"How...are you carrying that thing?" Vilkas pointed at the ax. "It's real. Unlike you. You're not real!"

"I don't know," Sura admitted. "I don't. It flows with me."

"What?" Vilkas lifted his arms like he was ready to give up. "Alright...alright! Don't tell me then! I don't need to know! I don't want to know!"

He was incredibly frustrated by this whole situation. Letting her go by herself tormented him. She wasn't actually going, he tried to wrap his head around that. She was here, lying in the tent. Like a dead person without a mind or a personality. He didn't know was he able to wake her up if he needed to. And if she didn't wake up, what he should do or where he should go. Once again something came between them and he didn't like it one bit.

"Are…you sure about this?" Vilkas finally asked. He didn't have options. Following her was impossible.

"They can't hurt me," Sura assured him. "Trust me."

"I trust you," Vilkas pointed out. "But I don't trust your father. What if something happens that you don't know?"

"He knew what he was doing," Sura lowered her gaze. "And if he were here, he would gladly do all of this on my behalf. But this is the only way he can help me now."

"If he hadn't created that spell, we wouldn't be in this mess," Vilkas noted.

He let out a long sigh and knew there was nothing he could say that would convince her otherwise. She wanted to go, had to go and this was surely much safer than any other option they had. Her body would remain here. It was only her conscious mind that would enter Windhelm and face Jarl Ulfric. He took a deep breath and tried to touch her again but his hand slid right through her, again.

"I love you too," she smiled. "And I'll come back, don't you worry."

It didn't take her long to reach the wide stone bridge that led to the gates of Windhelm. The man who was working at the stables noticed her but didn't pay too much attention and that was a clear message. The spell was working perfectly. She appeared realistic enough for people to see her. But she was worried that at some point Jarl Ulfric's war ax would just drop right through her since it was the only real thing on her body. Amazingly enough, it was still strapped to her back. She didn't know how her father managed that but he was a curious-minded researcher, a master wizard and a fast learner and she had no doubts he would have worked as long as it took to solve all the problems he faced.

She arrived at the gate and the two guards standing there stared at her with disdain. She explained why she was in Windhelm. Both of them clearly saw the Jarl's ax strapped to her back and after a long, awkward silence, they let her in. As she walked ahead, one of the guards told her not to get into any trouble or she would personally see why Skyrim belonged to the Nords. She ignored his patriotic nonsense and continued on. She had never been to Windhelm but it wasn't that hard to find the Palace of the Kings, where Jarl Ulfric led his rebellion and his quest to become the High King of Skyrim. She walked over the courtyard and was once again stopped by a guard who asked what business she had to the Jarl's palace. And once again she patiently explained herself. The guard sighed, muttered something about smugglers and skooma addicts and then opened the large doors for her.

She only heard her own footsteps when she walked into the large main hall. A tall table stood in the middle and at the other end, she saw the throne of the Jarl which was currently empty. She swallowed, reminded herself that Vilkas was looking after her, that there was no reason to be nervous or scared. And yet – she was. Knowing that she would face the person who murdered and slaughtered her whole family, made her nauseous and angry, worried and afraid. But behind all of that was a strict resolution to see him, face him and finally put it all behind her.

Low voices drifted from a small room next to the main hall. And very soon Jarl Ulfric appeared accompanied by his right-hand man, Galmar Stone-Fist. They were eagerly talking about the war, how Whiterun would definitely be theirs, how Jarl Balgruuf would have to make his choice soon. How he was about to come around and see the need for a strong, independent Skyrim. When they saw her standing there, their exchange abruptly ended and silence fell into the hall. Ulfric took a few steps towards her. He noticed his own ax on her back. He had expected one of his soldiers and it was very strange that they sent someone else to deliver the message. Only much later he realized he should have connected the dots sooner.

"And you are?" he asked with a calm voice.

"Shouldn't you know?" Sura shot back. "You sent assassins after me, didn't you?"

Ulfric chuckled. Could it really be true, he wondered. Jo'Azirr's daughter. Dragonborn's sister. Here, in his halls. In his city. Standing just a few feet away, unarmed, defenseless. Well, he expected more. Not such blatant stupidity. Jo'Azirr was rather cunning, after all. And the Dragonborn followed in his father's footsteps, he won one battle, but not the whole war.

"Ah," Jarl Ulfric waved towards the throne. "An unfortunate mistake on my part. I apologize for that. But it seems you survived, no harm done."

"A mistake?" Sura huffed. "Interesting. Was it also a mistake when you and your men murdered my whole family and sent my brother into slavery?"

"Your father owed me something," Ulfric explained in a calm voice. "And if he delivered what he promised, none of that would have been necessary."

"Yes," Sura smiled cruelly. "The spell obtained. To bend people's minds. How badly you wanted to get your hands on that. Even when you Nords despise magic in all its forms. Tell me, what was it like to realize that the only way you could win this war was with magic?"

"Is that why you are here?" Jarl Ulfric sat down on his throne. His tone was still soft, friendly, and almost fatherly. "To find justification, retribution. Maybe even personal revenge, like your brother?"

"No, that's not why I'm here," Sura untied the ax and threw it on to the floor, right in front of the throne. "I came to deliver a message. Jarl Balgruuf wants nothing to do with you. Whiterun stands with the Empire."


	112. Chapter 112

**112.**

The metallic sound caused by the falling ax echoed in the throne room. When it finally faded, silence filled the hall. Jarl Ulfric glanced at the weapon and then nodded to Galmar. He grunted and picked up the ax. Both men watched her, Galmar with clear distaste, Ulfric with interest and admiration. He still remembered Jo'Azirr very well. Despite him being a Khajiit and a wizard, he felt certain respect towards him. When Maven Black-Briar sent a message to him all those years ago and informed him that Jo'Azirr and his family lived in outskirts of Riften, he considered long and hard should he go after them or leave them alone.

Spells and magic wasn't something a Nord like him saw as useful. But despite his charisma, his undeniable leadership, not everyone was convinced. He had allies all over Skyrim, his army was filled with loyal followers and still, it wasn't enough. He needed more. And without even knowing it, he craved for a solution. And that solution presented itself years ago. He saw the scroll only once when he met a Khajiit in the snowy road between Windhelm and Winterhold. He wasn't the leader or Stormcloaks back then, he didn't even think about the possibility of driving out the Imperials and freeing Skyrim. Back then Jo'Azirr was still working in the college, doing research and scouring ancient Nordic ruins for new and interesting things. Their meeting was more of a coincidence than anything more. They passed each other on the road, Jo'Azirr was kneeling next to his knapsack and some of his things were strewn across the frozen ground. That mysterious scroll was among his things. And from that day onward it began to wiggle its way inside his mind, like a slow maggot burrowing inside a fresh apple. That day he followed the Khajiit and later visited him in the College. At first, he tried to be secretive, like he was no interested in that certain scroll at all, but Jo'Azirr saw through him very quickly. When he demanded the scroll for himself, his elusive friend managed to disappear for years and hide the vital information.

But in the end, he found Jo'Azirr. But he didn't find the scroll. He didn't find it and it kept reminding him all of the chances he lost. Of all the possibilities he could achieve using it. He knew it was somewhere in Skyrim, probably hidden away in a remote, secluded place. It was pointless sending people out to look for it but he tried to retrace Jo'Azirr's steps and his life. Where he'd been, what he'd done, who he talked to. All his spies came and every time one of them returned, he became more and more outraged. The Khajiit had outwitted him. He managed to kill him, be rid of him for good, slaughtered his wife in front of his eyes, sent his son to slavery and still he didn't get what he wanted.

But here, right in front of him, stood a solution. Jo'Azirr's daughter. His secret mystery. A young girl all grown into an adult, not carrying any weapons besides his war ax. That meant only one thing. She was a mage like her father. Inherited her father's talents and research. Maybe even his hidden knowledge. And hadn't she just mentioned the spell he searched so eagerly all these years. She knew about it. She might even possess it, have it with her. Ulfric smiled at her when he stepped down from his throne. There was no need to be cruel, no need to make her alarmed or nervous. He tried cruelness before and it didn't pay out. She walked in here on her own accord, clearly knowing why he did what he did all those years ago.

"Jarl Balgruuf stands with the Empire," Ulfric muttered and folded his hands behind his back. "That's unfortunate."

Sura didn't respond but she paid close attention to everything he did and said. In that short moment, she could see something in him. What he once was before the scroll began its corruption. If she hadn't destroyed it, would it do the same to her? she wondered. Slowly eat away at her like it had eaten him for years. Ulfric fought for the independence of Skyrim, freedom of this land, against magic and against the Empire and the Thalmor. And in the end, he of all people, the only true High King in many people's eyes, succumbed to the hunger. The need to have and to own something that was so destructive. She knew that if Ulfric got his hands to that spell and somehow figured out how to use it, he would lose the last bits of himself. It would devour him, twists his mind and purposes, his once noble goals and in the end, he would only be an empty shell of himself. She had no idea where her father acquired such knowledge ( _Did you know that our father went to Apocrypha!)_  and why it affected people like it did. Had it affected him the same way? Did he feel the same horrifying need to take it for himself and use it for his own gain? Was that the reason he didn't destroy it but only hid it?

While having all these unanswered questions in her mind, she felt pity and even sadness towards Jarl Ulfric. In the beginning, his goals were righteous; make Skyrim a land that was strong enough to stand on its own. Unite its people and allow them to worship the gods they wanted. But then the scroll began to eat him, the need to have it twisted his actions and things escalated from bad to worse. In her heart, Sura was almost willing to forgive him. Forgive him the death of her parents. Forgive him for the years her brother spent in slavery. Forgive him for losing her memories and her identity.

_Almost._

"Your father had something that belonged to me," Ulfric circled her. "He was meant to deliver it to me. This…spell, you mentioned."

"To you?" Sura asked. "And what is this something? Why would a proud Nord like you need a spell of any kind? I've heard you don't trust magic."

"We had an arrangement," Jarl Ulfric continued.

"An arrangement", Sura nodded. "I see. And this arrangement included the slaughtering of my parents? Selling my brother into slavery?"

"That was regrettable," Jarl Ulfric said and his voice dripped with sympathy and sadness. "It's not something I did with a light heart."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?" Sura snapped at him. "That I lost my whole family because of some weird spell that my father obtained and you desired."

"It's not just any  _spell_ ," Ulfric frowned. "It is something that could change everything! Free Skyrim! Make it independent! Throw the Thalmor and the Empire out!"

"Enslave everyone," Sura corrected him. "Because that's what it does!"

"Unite them under a single cause!" Ulfric pointed out. "To fight for the freedom of this land!"

"Even those who don't want it," Sura said and now all the pity had vanished from her heart. "Those that see you as a murderer of the High King."

"I challenged Torygg to an honorable fight," Ulfric sighed. "And he lost."

"You shouted him to death!" Sura glared at him. "How was that fair in any way?"

"I'm tired of defending myself," Ulfric declared and sat down. "Now, you came here to deliver an answer. I understand that Jarl Balgruuf is no Nord at all and I will move accordingly."

He turned to Galmar and in a few short sentences, he gave the orders to attack Whiterun. Sura realized she couldn't afford to lose more time. If she left now, she and Vilkas might get a small head start. She stared at Jarl Ulfric and clearly saw what he had become. What the scroll had done to him. He was a brilliant, intelligent man who was destroyed and corrupted by something he barely knew existed. He had the illusion of what it might be and how it might help him but like her father, he never stopped to think was it actually wise to use it.

"You were a fool to come here," Ulfric snapped his fingers and a group of guards surrounded her. "I suspect that you have some information of your father's experiments. I intend to get that information, one way or another. You'll remain here. Call it what you will, a guest, a prisoner, it doesn't really matter. As I understand it, Jarl Balgruuf holds you in high regard and he might even change his opinion when you fail to return."

"I expected something like this," Sura admitted. "That's why I was very cautious."

"I might even get the Dragonborn on my side," Ulfric completely ignored her words and smiled. "He wasn't very co-operative the last time we met. I doubt he would risk the life of his sister by turning down an alliance with me."

"Sounds very likely," Sura's mouth curved into a smile. "Too bad you never get to test your theory."

She blinked, thought about her body, lying there in her own bedroll, covered by the warm blankets. She thought about Vilkas and how she wanted to return to him. She felt shivers running up and down her spine, her lips began to tremble and in front of them all, her shape began to fade and dissipate. The guards gasped and retreated but Jarl Ulfric jumped out of his throne, rushed forward and tried to grab her arm. But like Vilkas' hand before, it slipped right through her, never making the contact. It was a weird sensation, being so far from her physical form and making the journey back. The last thing she heard when conscious mind left Windhelm, was Ulfric's curses, his wordless shouts of anger and his incoherent orders of finding her and attacking Whiterun, wiping the city and its people off the map of Skyrim.

And then she was back. Her body jerked, her eyes snapped open. She gasped for air like she had been submerged under water for a long time. She reached out to Vilkas, who was right there by her side and when his warm arms wrapped around her and held her tight, she clung on to him and thought about the anger, the frustration and the pointlessness of it all. She felt sadness, almost bottomless grief for her parents and realized that their deaths had been totally unnecessary. She was sure that somehow it could have all been avoided. But fate had an interesting sense of humor. It wanted to make you suffer, test your resilience and when you were strong enough, it placed its heavy weight on your shoulders. She couldn't stop crying. She cried in his arms like she once again lost everyone and everything she loved. She cried for the past and she cried for their future. Cried for the all the things she lost and would still lose.

Because there was no time for tears later.


	113. Chapter 113

**113.**

Sura and Vilkas arrived in Whiterun only an hour before Ulfric's forces made their way down the plains. That short time turned out to be valuable since Jarl Balgruuf sent a message to General Tullius and he instead sent them a small platoon of Imperial soldiers. It wasn't much but Jarl Balgruuf took what he was offered. And somehow, through Aura's and Brynjolf's efforts, Legate Fasendil's small strike force arrived from Riften. The leader of that small group was very familiar to many of them. It was indeed Hadvar from Riverwood. Most of his boyish shyness had disappeared and he now commanded with new found authority. Almost all of Whiterun's civilians were evacuated beneath the Dragonsreach. Jarl Balgruuf made sure that everyone was escorted there if necessary. Most of the people were taking cover below the reach, in the prison and among the servants quarters. The men and women of Whiterun wanted to fight and defend their city and the Jarl saw no reason to deny them. The elderly and the children headed up to the Reach and the Jarl, Irileth and rest of the guard force joined the others by the main gates.

Lydia didn't waste any time sending Mila up to the reach and then she ran to J'Ziir down by the battlements. Sura and Vilkas visited Jorrvaskr only to get rest of the Companions and then they also hurried down. They informed Jarl Balgruuf what happened in Windhelm and he wasn't surprised. That's why he prepared ahead and made Whiterun as strong as it could be, in the current situation. Farkas was beaming with confidence and excitement. He sharpened his broadsword for this and he couldn't keep his mouth shut, his low voice echoed over the all of them and his boisterous laughter caused Aela to roll her eyes more than once that night. Finally, she stuck a huge apple in his mouth and he munched it down, still chuckling to himself. He had a loyal following which mostly consisted of young female recruits. He declared loudly he would take them all at the same time when the battle was over. Almost all of them broke into hysteric snickers and that caused Vilkas to cringe. Sura giggled with them and he glanced upwards and groaned. He loved and respected his wife and never doubted her loyalty but sometimes her sense of humor amazed him.

J'Ziir noticed that Lydia was kind of jumpy and nervous and every now and then she looked back, towards the reach. She bit her lower lip and frowned. Finally, he asked what was going on, she was never this nervous when there was just two of them against twenty bandits or half a dozen falmer. She sighed and told him that Mila didn't really want to be left behind. It hadn't been that long since Carlotta died and now with a massive Stormcloack army marching towards them the girl worried that she might lose her new family too. Of course, she tried her best to convince her that they would both be alright. But Lydia worried that at some point Mila would show up in the middle of the battle. J'Ziir told her that Mila wasn't that stupid. Lydia said it wasn't about stupidity, but the girl felt insecure and afraid. You can't explain feelings away with logic. J'Ziir wasn't about to get dragged into a conversation about feelings and emotions so he was almost too glad when Sura and Vilkas joined them. He was relieved to see them both alright, but what surprised him was that he actually felt relief for Vilkas too. He convinced himself that his brother-in-law's life didn't really matter to him, but when he nodded to him, he nodded back and they both understood each other. If everything else went to hell, they would stand side by side and defend their homes and families.

Just before the sunrise they began to hear sounds and see the distant glow of the torches. They were all quiet, even Farkas grew silent and stopped his constant talking and rambling. Whiterun was very defensible, there was basically only one way inside the city. Dragonsreach was located high up in the city and climbing the cliff behind it was impossible. Jarl Balgruuf watched the closing horde and his jaw tightened. They would fight to the last man if necessary. He looked to his left and saw Irileth. He had fought alongside the Dunmer years ago and to this day he trusted her with his life. Then he looked to his left and saw both the Harbinger and the Dragonborn. The strange, Khajiit sibling that changed Whiterun and made it stronger. He could not wish for better allies.

The following day was long and bloody. The sky was completely clear, the sun scorched down on them like a ball of fire that wanted to burn them all alive. The bodies piled up and they all fought with fierceness in their hearts. All emotion and feelings were locked away, somewhere deep down so no one would accidentally think that these were their countrymen, born from the same mothers and fathers. As the sun began to set once more, the stone walls of Whiterun were covered in a dried up blood, torn off limbs and entrails. The plains were littered with bodies and horrific moans and wails of the wounded floated up to the city. The only priestess in Whiterun, Danica Pure-Spring, and a couple of her apprentices, did their best and walked among the soldiers, offered healing and potions but after the long day, they realized they could only help a fraction of these people. They were all tired, exhausted, the hem of their robes was splattered with blood and no matter how much potions they used to keep their own powers going, many of these soldiers would die in the coming hours.

The night was cold, rainy and the sky filled with clouds. A chilly drizzle poured down on them and freezing wind blew over the plains. Sura and Vilkas stood by the main gates and she stared at the scene. The stables were gone and destroyed, the stone walls crumbling and one by one she heard how the silent screams began to vanish. She felt incredibly sad, tired and jaded. She had bruises and cuts in her body and her left arm was bleeding profusely but the blood felt warm on her cold skin. Vilkas took her hand and wrapped a dirty cloth gently around it. Then he cupped her face in his hand and forced her to look at him. There was a strange emptiness in her eyes, something he wasn't used to seeing. He pulled her closer, pressed his forehead against hers and wrapped his arms around her. It wasn't much but their closeness reminded her that life wasn't just about death and war and sorrow and grief. She closed her eyes and tears pushed their way out. Then she breathed out and smiled weakly. Her help was needed; she knew spells and could save many of these wounded people.

Across the field, J'Ziir saw them walk towards the wounded. They were both alive and well, one worry off his chest. He wiped the blood from his face but of course, his fur sucked most of it and was now matted with it, tangled and dirty. He tasted the copper in his mouth and smelled a horrid, sickeningly sweet stench of the corpses. He was on the front lines most of the battle and his sharp ebony axes were covered with blood, dripping with it. He searched for Lydia who was by his side most of the battle but at some point, he lost her. He didn't believe her dead, the old girl was too tough for that. He passed three or four Imperial soldiers who carried body bags, apparently, they were already clearing the field and burying the dead. He but didn't pay much attention to them. It's a wonder that some of General Tullius's men were still alive. He didn't see Lydia anywhere in the plains so he figured she must have gone back to the city, to assure Mila that both of them were alright. Might as well, there was nothing else to do here.

Despite the amount of the dead, Whiterun was untouched and safe. Not a single Stormcloack entered the city. J'Ziir was impressed, not just by the ferocity of General Tullius's soldiers but also the passion of the regular guard force and the people of Whiterun. Their will to defend their home was impressive. It was a surprise that most of them were still standing. He saw Hadvar moving through the battlefield, covered in blood like he was and the two men greeted each other with a quick nod. He saw Vilkas's brother, Farkas, laughing like a maniac, clearly enjoying this bloodbath more than he should have. The Huntress walked by his side. Jarl Balgruuf and his bodyguard Irileth were heading towards the city. He didn't really care about the rest of them, he was content to see Raji and Vilkas both alive and well. Now he wanted to make sure Lydia and Mila were doing alright.

He entered the city and some of the people were already coming down from the reach. He searched for Lydia's familiar figure but still, he couldn't find her among the people. He strolled to the destroyed Market and was about to head up the stone stairs when he heard someone calling out to him. No…more like yelling his name, over and over again. Not the usual "Dragonborn" or " _Thane_ " but  _his_ real name. J'Ziir! J'Ziir! He turned and saw Fralia Grey-Mane, Eorlund Grey-Mane's old wife, run towards him, panting like she'd been running for ages. He glanced around and wondered was she looking for him or some other J'Ziir because he and this old woman had very little, if anything, in common.

"J'Ziir," she grabbed him by the arm and was barely able to speak. She was breathing hard and he laid her down on the stairs. Whatever this old woman had to say, he didn't want her to have a heart attack before she even began. "Those bastards…took them…!"

"What?" he had no idea what she meant and at this point, his heart was still calm and relaxed.

"Mila…and Lydia," Fralia whispered and now she got J'Ziir full attention. "Dressed as...Imperial soldiers."

"Who was?" J'Ziir squeezed her arm almost too hard.

"Ulfric's men, Stormcloaks," Fralia explained. "They came up to the Reach, dressed as Imperials. A small group, I think they climbed over the wall. They took Mila, I tried to protect her but they pushed me down and tore her away from me. I called out for help and Lydia ran towards us. But there were too many for her."

"Where are they?" J'Ziir's eyes were blazing.

"I don't know," Fralia cried. "They were both unconscious when they took them away."

J'Ziir didn't waste time listening to her any longer. He jumped up, ran across the Market and stopped every Imperial soldier he saw. His eyes scanned the field but he saw no one who would fit Fralia's description. His brain was on overdrive, he calculated how much time he had and what would happen it ran out. Stormcloacks. Ulfric. The Jarl of Windhelm knew he couldn't win this war using conventional methods. So he was forced to play dirty. He sent a small group to kidnap Mila and Lydia. And undoubtedly he was going to use them as hostages. A way to blackmail him.

He froze, retraced his steps and clearly remembered seeing a group of soldiers passing him by when he headed towards Whiterun. Three or four Imperials, carrying something, which he assumed were just dead bodies, soldiers killed it a battle. Hadvar was still gathering his group, he had no time to order his men to clear the bodies. So those fake Imperials were really carrying just a defenseless child who was easily knocked out and her adoptive mother, who wasn't as easy when it came to her family. But somehow they managed to take them both and smuggle them out of Whiterun. J'Ziir stared at the road that led to Windhelm and saw no one. Of course, they weren't going to walk the whole way. They had horses or carriages hidden somewhere, waiting for them and their precious cargo.

_Jarl Ulfric_.  _Bear of Markarth_. Why didn't I kill you when I had the chance? Why didn't I end you when you murdered my family the first time? Why did I wait and gave you chance to do it all over again? Anger and hate blinded him and pulled a red haze over his eyes. He gripped his axes and found his trusty, old mare just inside the main gates. It wiggled its ears and danced around when it heard him approaching. He untied it and without hesitation, without delay, he led it out of the city. Now he was calm and cool and collected. The burning blaze inside him turned into a clear certainty of what he had to do. He pushed his panic and his urgency aside and felt how the old J'Ziir slipped into place like another skin or a tight leather glove. This J'Ziir didn't feel pity for anyone. This J'Ziir had no love in his heart, had no one he cared so he had nothing to lose. This J'Ziir was exactly who he needed right now.

Sura saw him across the field, realized what was happening, abandoned what she was doing and ran to him. Just one look to his eyes told her everything she needed to know. She knew there was no stopping him but she wanted to remind him that no matter what happened, he was not alone. He would never be alone again.

"Wait for me, please!" Sura asked but J'Ziir's eyes were cold and cruel and uncaring.

"Do what you wish," he replied as he jumped on his horse. "But don't get in my way."


	114. Chapter 114

**114.**

Lydia moaned. What kind of a dream was so real? How come this stone floor was so cold and uncomfortable? A drop of water fell from somewhere and hit her right on the forehead. The icy liquid trickled down her cheek and neck sending cold shivers down her back. She tried to lift her hand and wipe the water away. She managed to bring her left hand up to her chin but that was as far as it came before a sturdy iron chain stopped it. Her hands were tightly locked together by rusty shackles. When the freezing metal stopped her movements, her eyes flashed open in an instant. She was in a dirty, skeever infested dungeon. She heard the critters moving, somewhere in the dark shadows, heard their squeaking and chirping. Sturdy iron bars separated her from a narrow corridor and her arms and legs were chained to the wall. There was a painful bruise on the left side of her face and her cheek was throbbing and tingling. She examined the inside of her mouth with her tongue and was relieved to feel all her teeth intact and in their places.

What happened? she wondered and looked around. Where is this? Wasn't I just in Whiterun, going up to the Dragonsreach to get Mila. How did I end up here? Were there…soldiers? Imperial soldiers? Why…why they attacked us?

Her head was spinning but slowly the memories began to emerge. She left the battlefield in order to get Mila and assure the girl that both she and J'Ziir were alright. When she entered the city, people were coming down from the reach. She walked all the way up to the catwalk and saw Mila with Fralia Grey-Mane. They were walking hand in hand and talking to each other. She waived to Mila and the girl smiled. They were the last ones out and there was no one else at the Reach. All of the guards were down on the battlefield with Jarl Balgruuf and Irileth. She ran the last steps and was stunned to see a group of Imperial soldiers. She assumed they were part of General Tullius's platoon and asked what they were doing up here. None of them answered and suddenly one of them pushed Fralia and the old woman fell to the ground. Lydia was shocked and the confusion caused her a few valuable seconds. She pulled her sword out but they attacked her, swarmed her and their fists came down, hard and fast. She heard Mila scream and cry and when her sword fell to the ground, she clawed and bit and used her fists but then someone punched her in the face, hard and cruel. She felt the pain travel down her neck and another hit forced her down to the ground. Just before everything went black, she asked them not to hurt Mila.

_Mila_? Where was she? Frantically Lydia looked around but didn't see the child anywhere. She rustled the shackles, tried to get on her feet and eventually she was able to pull herself up. There was another jail cell on the other side of the corridor and she crawled closer to the bars. To her tremendous relief, she saw Mila laying there. But she didn't move, she was barely breathing. She grabbed the bars and called out to her. The girl didn't react. She bit her lip and her heart was beating way too hard.  _Calm down_! she told herself. You can't think if you panic! Just calm down! Breathe!

She closed her eyes, leaned her forehead against the bars and concentrated on her breathing. Slowly in and slowly out. That's it. Keep going. Good. After a little while, her brain was starting to work again, the paralyzing cramp of terror loosened its grip. She began to understand what happened. These were either bandits or Stormcloaks. If they were bandits, gold might satisfy their needs. Her stomach convulsed when she remembered what once happened to Sura but then she pushed it out of her mind. She refused to think about it. But if they were Stormcloaks…that was another matter. There was no time to think or analyze who their kidnappers were. She needed to get out this cell, get Mila and get out.

She crawled back, lay on the floor and decided to test her situation. If she called out, would more than one guard appear to check on her? And if there was only one, was she able to take him out. She bit her lip hard enough so it began to bleed and then she coughed out. A few measly drops of blood landed on the floor. That wasn't enough to impress anyone but…this was a test. She needed to know what and who she was facing. She coughed harder and began to call for help. At first, she heard nothing but she kept shouting until her throat was dry and raspy. She heard a door open somewhere at the end of the corridor and footsteps echoed on the stone floor. She took an injured, painful look on her face but watched closely the person who came her way. It was a Nord woman dressed in a blue Stormcloak armor and she no longer wondered who their kidnappers were. Jarl Ulfric couldn't win this war without allies so he decided to " _persuade_ " the Dragonborn by any means necessary.

"What are you yelling for?" the Nord woman asked and she coughed again.

"I…I think I might need help," Lydia wheezed through her dry lips. It didn't even take much effort to sound that badly hurt.

"What do I care!" she huffed and waved her hand.

"Please," Lydia yelled and twisted her body. "Please…it hurts so much."

"I can end your suffering right now if you don't shut up!" she pulled out a dagger and slashed it against the bars.

Lydia cursed. Was there no way of getting her inside the cell? It seemed that calling for help didn't work. But was it really wise to defy and antagonize her? She knew it was far from being smart and J'Ziir would probably kill her if he knew, but if she didn't do anything, what would happen to Mila? They would probably use the child's life to persuade J'Ziir.

"Then do it!" she spat out. "If you think you can, milk drinker!"

"Oh, I'll skin you alive!" she laughed.

She rustled they keys and slammed the door to her cell open. Lydia watched closely her every step but pretended she was weak and tired and harmless. If the woman got the impression that she was unable to fight back, taking her by surprise might be a bit easier.

"What's the matter?" she mocked. "Lost you courage already?"

She lashed out and her dagger barely missed her left cheek. She twisted out of the way, and then slid her legs quickly under her in an attempt to trip her. With an angry scream, she came tumbling down on top of her and her dagger lodged between their bodies. It pressed down on Lydia's left leg, punctured her skin as she felt her leg began to bleed. The Nord cursed and tried to get back up but Lydia was now working with instincts. She used the shackles as a weapon, brought them down and wrapped them tightly around her neck. Then she squeezed them hard and the woman twisted her body, screamed and shrieked and Lydia prayed, she prayed that no one would hear them. She hardened herself and tightened her grip. The woman lifted her other hand and scratched her face but she paid little attention to it. She didn't know how long it took before the Nord laid completely still in her lap, her head lulling to her left. Her muscles jerked a couple of time and then she remained motionless. Her screams still echoed inside Lydia's ears and no matter how many people she killed before, this had to be the hardest one so far. She was afraid to move her in case she was just pretending. In the end, she didn't have any options, anyone could walk down here and see what she'd done. She lifted the chain and pushed her away. She leaned her aching head against the wall, panting and sweating but then she forced herself to move. She found the keys inside her armor. Her hands were trembling and she dropped them twice before the locks opened.

She scrambled to her feet and was about to run across the corridor to get Mila. But then she looked at the dead woman next to her. If someone came down and saw her the whole place would be looking for them in no time. The cut in her leg wasn't that deep and she barely noticed it anyway. She glanced at the armor and began to remove it. Some protection was better than none and currently, she was wearing a dirty shirt that offered no cover whatsoever. The armor was tight and uncomfortable but she attached the buckles and belts, pulled the boots and the bracers on. Then she took the dagger and the helmet and covered her face. Better than nothing, she concluded. She dragged the dead woman in the corner, turned her around and chained her to the wall. She walked to the door and looked back. With a quick glance, it seemed she was sleeping or even unconscious.

She locked the door and eyed the narrow corridor. There was no one around and she thanked all the Divines protecting her. Then she unlocked the door leading to Mila's cell. She rushed to her side, removed her helmet and inspected the child quickly. No major injuries, only a few bruises, no bleeding or deep cuts. Good. She grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her gently. Mila moaned but didn't open her eyes. Lydia released her from the shackles and wiped her face. She looked around and saw a dirty bucket in the corner. She pulled it to her and splashed some cold water on Mila's cheeks. The girl scrunched up her face and shook her head. Slowly she opened her eyes and Lydia smiled. Before Mila was able to say anything, Lydia pressed her finger on her lips and shushed. They had to be quiet in order to get out. Mila nodded and Lydia kissed her forehead.

She pulled her helmet back on, stuffed some dirty, old sacks and hay inside the worn blanket and tried to make it seem like Mila was lying underneath it. Then she picked the girl in her arms, carried her out of the cell, locked it and began creeping down the corridor.


	115. Chapter 115

**115.**

Windhelm was falling to pieces. Not just because the whole Imperial army was rushing towards its gates but because the Dragonborn had no mercy or pity for its people. J'Ziir didn't look left or right when he crossed the bridge and took down the guards at the gate. After chopping their heads off, he tossed their bodies into the river and pushed the gate open. The majority of the people were civilians but that mattered little to him. He released his Thu'um as soon as the gate was open and didn't care who was caught in the blast. The pain didn't stop him this time, it drove him forward, fed his madness. The red haze at the edges of his vision only pumped more adrenaline to his veins and he forced his aching muscles into action. He didn't waste time on civilians, his goal was Ulfric and the Palace of the Kings. He killed those who attacked him and left everyone else for the Imperials. He neither heard them nor cared what or where they were headed.

Sura and Vilkas arrived in Windhelm only moments after J'Ziir. They rushed through the gates while the Imperials waited on General Tullius. Sura realized that J'Ziir was carving a clear path straight towards the palace. He was like a one man's unstoppable army. But she wasn't worried for him. If her visions, her darkest dreams were true, something terrible would happen here. She finally had the courage to examine her nightmares and confirm that the woman lying on the stone floor, bleeding to death, was indeed  _Lydia_. And if she could stop it or prevent it from happening, she would do anything, go anywhere in order to disrupt the powerful current they were heading down with.

J'Ziir was at the courtyard when the last remnants of the Stormcloaks surrounded him. He didn't even slow down and when they all attacked him, he sent out burning blaze of fire and in the midst of the scorching flames, he methodically slaughtered those who were still trying to stop him. He didn't chase those who ran away. They didn't interest him. When he reached the door, he hesitated for a just a moment. The last time he was here, Jarl Ulfric poisoned him, lured Lydia to the Temple of Talos and tried to turn her against him. I should have killed him right then and there, he thought. This time there was nothing to cloud his judgment.

Meanwhile, deep down beneath the Palace of the Kings, Lydia carried Mila on her back and tried her best to avoid the guards and the soldiers. The girl was quiet but she fell in and out of consciousness every now and then and Lydia became more and more worried. She heard hurried footsteps from somewhere behind her was barely able to hide in the small storage room when the soldiers ran by her. They were yelling and screaming at each other. Windhelm was under attack. The Imperials were here. And the Dragonborn was leading them. Lydia raised her eyebrows. J'Ziir had arrived. She didn't know how long she was out cold but if J'Ziir was here already, it couldn't have been that long. Twelve hours, maybe less. She wanted to believe he hadn't lingered in Whiterun but left as soon as he noticed they were missing.

All of the guards and the soldiers were heading towards the exit and it seemed no one remembered her or Mila. She was about to continue when two guards passed her and now they were heading the other way. Before they vanished behind the corner she heard them talking about her. Jarl Ulfric wanted her and the girl up in the throne room when the Dragonborn arrived. Lydia cringed. They were going down to get her and Mila. Her time was slowly running out. As soon as they were gone, she jumped out of the storage room and continued as fast and as quietly as she could.

Sura saw J'Ziir stop for a moment and that gave her enough time to rush by his side. He didn't seem to notice her, he just continued on looking straight ahead. His eyes were black and filled with hatred, there was nothing left of the man who adopted little Mila and sometimes smiled at Lydia. He slammed the doors open and Sura's eyes widened and she gasped. The room was filled with Stormcloaks and at the other end of the room, Jarl Ulfric sat on his throne. Calm, collected, peaceful. Like all of this didn't really matter to him. Like it had absolutely nothing to do with him. J'Ziir didn't stop and as he walked on, the soldiers moved away from him. Sura promised she wouldn't leave him alone and as she followed him, Vilkas accompanied her. They sensed the fear and anxiety in this hall and it triggered the hunger and the need to feed somewhere inside them. The wolves demanded their right to be free. But by now they both knew how to control their beasts and this was not a place or a time to succumb to the hunger.

J'Ziir walked through the hall and stopped in front of Ulfric. He said nothing but his axes were dripping with blood, his armor, and fur coated with it, his eyes burned with fury and barely held back rage, his restless tail swiping back and forth like an angry whip or a snake, ready to bite whoever came close.

"Ah, Dragonborn!" Ulfric finally said as if he only now noticed him. "What an unexpected pleasure."

"Stop wasting my time," J'Ziir replied with a cold voice. "Mila and Lydia. Hand them over. Now."

"I'm sorry, I have no idea what you're talking about," Ulfric smiled compassionately.

"I won't ask again," J'Ziir hissed.

Sura bit her lip and waited. She nervously searched for Lydia and Mila but the throne room was filled with soldiers in bright blue uniforms. Voices from the outside grew louder and in a matter of seconds, General Tullius and his men burst through the palace doors. When all hell broke loose, when the Stormcloaks and the Imperials waged their war in the throne room of Windhelm's Palace of the Kings, Sura dodged the soldiers the best she could. She was almost delirious and frantically looked for Lydia. Vilkas followed her every step, fought for her and protected her in all of this madness. They were caught in the crossfire of J'Ziir's Thu'um as it echoed through the hall, throwing people, weapons, and furniture across the throne room. She was slammed against the stone wall and she felt Vilkas' arms around her, shielding her from the full impact of the blast. She shook her head and saw her brother and Jarl Ulfric, both men standing in the middle, finally facing each other after all these years. J'Ziir didn't make speeches when he launched an attack, he was quick, agile and deadly. His axes were sharp and precise and didn't take long for everyone to see that Jarl Ulfric was no match for him. Sura didn't know what would happen and how Lydia would end up on in the middle of all this, bleeding and wounded, and that uncertainty only made her more worried.

Vilkas helped her back on her feet and his broadsword was now covered in blood. He shielded her with his body but his shape blocked her view and she failed to notice how one of the wooden doors creaked open and a woman carrying a small child entered the hall. Lydia took off her helmet and only much later Sura realized that if she kept it on, Ulfric might have never noticed them at all. Such tiny detail, such tiny things, such a small amount of time changed everything. Jarl Ulfric recognized them first and he immediately understood this was his only change. If he got to her and to the child first, he might be able to stop this mad beast that now stalked him, chased him and wanted to end his life.

He was left with no choice. He knew of the Thu'ums. He once challenged and killed High King Torygg with a shout. And now there was no other way for him to get away from this persistent attacker. Everything was falling apart around him, his goal to free Skyrim and his dreams for this land. Everything. And yet he refused to go down. Jo'Azirr had robbed him of the chance of uniting this land. And now his son was here to finish the job. But if he was to end up dead and empty-handed, then he would gladly take Jo'Azirr's son with him.

He concentrated and aimed his Thu'um straight at the black furred Khajiit that rushed towards him. It wasn't as powerful as it could have been, he hadn't used it in a long time, but it still held enough force to toss the Dragonborn and many of the soldiers to the other side of the throne room. Jarl Ulfric had time to admire his agility when his foe was back to his feet faster than he anticipated. His brains malfunctioned and he decided to act.

From way too far, Sura noticed Mila and Lydia. She tried to push forward, grabbed Vilkas's arm and pointed at them. She used her most powerful spells and hurled people out of their way but even then she knew they would not get there in time. Lydia covered Mila with her body and pushed the girl further away. She tried to comfort her but Mila was still too disoriented. She didn't understand what was going on and she screamed. Her shriek was high pitched and it was audible even when the hall was filled with crying, moaning, shouting soldiers. Her eyes were huge and wet, she was like a small deer calf caught in a hunter's trap. Lydia tried to pull her closer but her tired, frightened mind was once again re-living the moments when Carlotta died and when everything was taken away from her. She didn't understand she was with Lydia and she tore away from her and sprinted away. In a sheer panic, Lydia rushed after her.

J'Ziir saw them and his heart stopped beating, it literally died in his chest. Mila running, not knowing where she was and where she was going. And Lydia right behind her, trying to catch her and pull her to safety. And within striking distance, Jarl Ulfric with a sharp, gleaming sword. For a brief moment, he was suddenly just a small boy, watching the murder of his parents all over again, not being able to do anything to stop it. Then the feeling disappeared and he fought harder than ever before, used his painful Thu'um to get the soldiers – both Imperials and Stormcloaks – out of his way. From the corner of his eye, he saw Raji running forward and he convinced himself that she would get there in time, she had to!

But in the end, they were all too late.


	116. Chapter 116

**116.**

Lydia didn't feel any pain when Jarl Ulfric's sharp sword impaled her. The Stormcloack armor did nothing to protect her. She reached out to Mila, saw the girl vanish somewhere among the fighting soldiers and fell to her knees. She only felt a strange pressure in her lower stomach and something prevented her from moving.

Sura gasped when she saw what happened. She was only a few meters away and Jarl Ulfric smiled cruelly when he pulled his sword back and Lydia slumped to the floor. A red pool of blood began to gather around her. Vilkas shouted he was going to follow Mila and make sure the girl was alright. Sura nodded, rushed to Lydia's side and pressed her trembling hands against her stomach. She released a glowing restoration spell, the most powerful one she had. It enveloped them both in a golden haze. She cared nothing of her own pain, nothing of her draining powers, she only prayed that her dreams would end here, that Lydia would smile at her and tell her that everything would be fine. She tried. But it was a weak attempt that hardly resembled a smile. An expression so frail, so confused, it sent shivers down Sura's spine.

J'Ziir couldn't believe his eyes. He refused to believe what happened. His mind was completely numb, out of order and that's when his instincts, his body's defense mechanisms took over. He fought and slashed and cut without even realizing what or who he was fighting. He didn't hear General Tullius's voice when the man ordered him to stop. Most of the Stormcloaks were down and dead and the General wanted to end this rebellion once and for all. He was about to send some Imperial soldiers to calm the Dragonborn but Hadvar stepped forward and advised the General not to. It was too dangerous now. If they sent Imperials to face the Dragonborn, even more soldiers would die by the end of this bloody day.

Sura panicked when she noticed that her spells did nothing. She raised her eyes and saw Jarl Ulfric still holding his sword and underneath the blood the steel glowed and shimmered.  _An enchantment_! Sura realized. Jarl Ulfric had an enchantment in his sword. She had no idea what it was and how it worked but it was obvious her healing spells were not working. She pressed harder and her whole body was shaking now, tears blinded her and fell down to her own hands but she could not stop the bleeding. And like a horrific reminder that made the nightmare real were the screams that reached her ears.

" _Lydia! Lydia! Lydia!"_

Over and over and over again. She knew it was J'Ziir but she doubted he noticed his own voice, how mad and desperate it sounded, how strange and absurd all of this was.

J'Ziir was completely out of his mind. He'd never felt such despair and never cursed his own slowness this much. Everyone who stepped in his way was dead within seconds but his eyes never left Lydia. He didn't notice that the last obstacle in his way was Jarl Ulfric of Windhelm. Most of his adult life he dreamed of this moment when he finally faced him when he finally put the ghosts of his parents to rest and ended his own quest for revenge. It had been the driving force in his life, the only thing that mattered during these long, painful years. But now it meant nothing. Like a severe thunderstorm, dark and black and deadly, he approached Jarl Ulfric who was about to say something but didn't get a chance when J'Ziir's axes swung down, fast and accurate. They came from both sides of his head and separated it from his shoulders in one clean swipe. J'Ziir didn't even stop to notice who he just killed.

Jarl Ulfric's dead body slumped to the floor, his head rolled the short distance to General Tullius's feet. The throne room was filled with wounded and dead soldiers. The fighting was over and the moans and the wails of the injured men and women was the only thing that filled the silence. With a nod, General Tullius ordered the rest of his men to work. Before he left the throne room, he glanced back and sighed. This was not the way he thought this rebellion would end. But he took what was offered. Now he could declare this war over and Skyrim could begin to rebuild itself.

Lydia didn't realize why everyone swarmed around her like bees. She felt cheerful, almost happy to see Sura but she didn't understand why her friend was crying. There was no reason to cry, they were all together now, weren't they? She turned her head and saw Vilkas. He walked to them Mila on his arms and her smile grew wider. Here they all were, her  _family_. Safe and sound. It scared her a little when J'Ziir suddenly rushed to her side and his eyes were wild and huge. She'd never seen them like that, it was fascinating. Only in her rosy daydreams she ever hoped him to look at her like that, with such gentleness. Like she was the most precious thing in his life. He said something to Sura but she didn't quite hear what it was. What was wrong with her ears? Their voices were distant and echoey like they were somewhere far, far away. But that was absurd, because they were right here, next to her. She shook her head and tried to sit up, but Sura pushed her back down and told her not to move.

"What's wrong?" she asked and her voice was droopy.

"Nothing," J'Ziir told her and shot a sharp look towards his sister. Sura stared back and shook her head. It isn't working!

J'Ziir didn't know what to do. He'd never felt this helpless before. Lydia was right here but she was fading fast, leaving him behind. There was no way he could follow her. If he could, he would grab and yank her back, shake the silly woman and then make sure she never left his side again. Gently he wiped the blood from her face and from her lips and noticed how terribly pale she was. Sura's hands were soaked in blood and she avoided his gaze. He looked around but there were no potions anywhere. His rational mind told him that if the spells didn't work, potions were no better. In a last desperate attempt, he ripped his half of the Eye from his own neck, lifted Lydia's head and slipped the jewel on her. Sura sighed and swallowed her tears back. It would not work, she knew it but just to make sure they did everything they could, she took off her own half, placed it next to J'Ziir and then recited the spell that united the Eye.

Nothing happened.

J'Ziir refused to believe it. He didn't accept it. All this time, all these years his parents kept him and Raji safe. And now they did nothing when it came to Lydia. His anger and rage spilled over and he tore the Eye away and tossed the pieces somewhere among the dead bodies. Then he pulled Lydia to his arms and when she groaned, he wrapped his arms around her and held tight. Sura still tried, tried so hard even though her powers were draining and her whole body was aching. Finally, Vilkas knelt down next to her, pulled her hands away and shook his head. Mila watched, wide-eyed and scared. She sobbed uncontrollably and Vilkas pulled her to him. Through her tears and howling he heard the words " _it's my fault!"_  over and over again.

J'Ziir just sat there, motionless, his face dead, his eyes empty. Lydia didn't move anymore. He couldn't hear her breath any longer. He was terrified to look, he didn't want to see her cold and lifeless face, eyes that saw nothing anymore. But he had to look, he had to wrap his head around this somehow. Death was no stranger to him and the pain was his close friend. He never avoided those, never shirked from violence or brutality, he used them to the best of his abilities. But somehow Lydia managed to crawl into the deepest, most protected part of his soul and now she took all those good things with her. She left him alone and didn't even bother telling him she was going, let alone wait for him.

He pressed her against him almost too hard. He panted, his chest felt too small for his aching heart. It was about to burst through his armor and he would have been glad if it did. Then he wouldn't have to face them all, be their cursed hero, their repulsive savior. He released his grip on her and as her face came to view, he didn't understand anything, like this was some alternate reality where everything was upside down and inside out. He shook Lydia almost violently and waited for her to respond, maybe even slap him across the face. But she just stared into nothingness, through him and somewhere beyond him, like there was someone more interesting standing behind him, someone who deserved all of her attention.

Death was familiar to him. He'd seen that empty stare thousand of times. The pain was his close friend but he had never felt it so bone-crushingly real. It wanted to beat and break him into small pieces, cut with him all its sharp edges and stab him with ice spikes that burrowed their way deep down to places he never knew existed. He slowly rocked her in his arms and her hands slipped down and her head lulled back, he realized what just happened.

He lost Lydia.  _She was dead_. And he was more alone than ever.


	117. Chapter 117

**117.**

The journey to High Hrothgar was the hardest and loneliest he ever made. He didn't stop anywhere, didn't talk to anyone. He guided his mare towards the steep steps and lowered his head when the first snowflakes began to whirl around him. Lydia's body was wrapped in a warm, soft pelt of a saber-tooth cat. When the snow danced around her face, he pulled the fur tighter like she could feel the coldness around her. Few rebellious snowflakes landed on her cheeks but they didn't melt on her skin. He didn't feel the cold around him. He was gone and empty and dead. Only the dull, constant ache remained, pounding in his head and in his chest. His own heart kept pounding in his chest, mocking him with its strength and tenacity. It kept going despite everything. It held him together when all else failed when his brain refused to function and his mind was swimming in memories of past.

Hours later he saw the massive building ahead of him, covered by the endless snow and ice. He jumped off his horse and carefully lifted Lydia in his arms. He placed her comfortably so that her head rested against his chest. Slowly he walked the stairs and opened the door to the monastery. It was quiet and serene as usual. Arngeir greeted him, saw the woman in his arms but didn't ask him anything. If the Dragonborn needed guidance, he would seek them out. Till then he decided to remain quiet and continue on his meditation.

He crossed the courtyard and walked on without stopping. He was heading to the Throat of the World and he saw no reason to use any of his shouts while he made the journey up. The wind tor and ripped at his skin, the ice and snow slapped him every pass by and mockingly danced around him, trying to beat him down with each step, pull him and his precious cargo off the mountain. He persevered and his muscles began to cry out of pain, but he was heavy with grief. He ignored the demands of his physical being, it was nothing but a shell anyway. Might as well turn to dust at any moment, set him free to follow in her footsteps. The old dragon that lived on top of the mountain saw him coming but said nothing when he staggered the last steps.

_"Time flows ever onward. Everything mortal fades away in time. But where the mortal flesh may wither and die, the spirit endures. Su'um ahrk morah. You will find that your spirit will give you more strength."_

He collapsed under his own weight, fell to his knees but made sure that Lydia still lay comfortably and unharmed in his arms. He gazed at her face for a long time and knew he could never forget this woman. She had been his constant companion, his nuisance, troublemaker, his caring housecarl, someone who always wanted to protect him and everything he owned. In the end, she had been his friend when no one else tolerated him. She had been his lover and gave herself to him without restriction or hesitations. She threw herself into their passion despite their differences, she was never afraid of him no matter how much he was afraid of himself and his own feelings.

Raji warned him, once, maybe even twice. He didn't want to remember her words. She told him to take care of them, the best things in his life. And he ignored her like he always ignored Lydia. He took her for granted, he thought she would always be there. When he wasn't home, not a day passed by when he didn't think of Lydia. Not a moment passed when he secretly didn't miss her. And when he got home and Lydia was there, right in front of him, he couldn't tell her how he longed after her. But now it was different. Lydia would never again be there. Would never again smile at him or wait for him to come home.

"I miss you," J'Ziir said and his voice was bland and quiet. "I've missed you for a long time."

She didn't answer and her eyes remained closed. He sat there for hours and cursed his brain, cursed his perfect memory which would never allow him to forget. Following Lydia would have been the easiest way. But that meant leaving Mila alone, once again. The girl lost her mother, Carlotta. Now, she lost another mother. Lydia. If he would leave her too, Mila's life would be too pitiful and meaningless. Taking the child under his care meant that he could not – would not – abandon her just because he felt like it. ( _Just because it's easy, doesn't mean its right!)_  And knowing Lydia, if they met each other in Sovngarde or wherever she was, she would slap him and kick his ass back to Tamriel just to look after Mila.

He took a deep breath and laid Lydia inside the protective circle of the word wall. Paarthurnax followed his every step but remained quiet. J'Ziir walked to the mountainside and began ripping out large chunks of stone and rock and ice. He didn't rest even when his muscles sobbed and cried for mercy. He kept going, an hour after another until his head was spinning, his ears were ringing and his hands were filled with painful gashes and cuts. Then he wobbled to Lydia, picked her up and placed her inside the small, stone sarcophagus. He wrapped her body in warm blankets and pelts just to make sure she wasn't cold on this freezing mountaintop. Finally, he covered the top with a large, heavy bear belt and anchored it to the ground with large stones. He was about to pull the fur over her face but couldn't do it. He stood there, just watching her. Maybe still waiting for her to open her eyes, look at him and smile. The things he would have done to make her smile again. With great effort, he was able to pull the covers over her face and Lydia's smile disappeared into the darkness for good.

Days later he returned to Whiterun. He didn't notice how people avoided him and when they saw him coming, they hurried out of his way. He didn't lift his gaze when he walked the short distance from the gate to Breezehome. The house was cold and empty. Raji and Vilkas were taking care of Mila in for a while. He toured the house, saw all the changes he made, the remodeling which now felt utterly ridiculous. The old J'Ziir would never waste time on such things. Now the place was too big. Too quiet, too dark and silent. He walked around and heard only his own footsteps, echoing in every room. There was no way he could be here by himself, no way to handle this heavy loneliness that pressed on his shoulders. He rushed outside, his mind filled with uncertainty and confusion. He made his way to Jorrvaskr and when Mila ran to him and wrapped her little arms around his neck, he felt something move inside his cold, frozen core. Maybe, somehow, after some time, he was able to...smile a little. Raji didn't ask anything, but she kissed him and hugged him tightly.

The man and the girl, both abandoned and orphaned, made their way through the city and into their empty home where someone was missing. They noticed her absence in every word, in every awkward gesture, in the long eerie moments between them. When Mila finally climbed upstairs to her bedroom, J'Ziir remained downstairs, stared the flames until his eyes were burning. He wished he could have cried but tears were locked somewhere inside him and he couldn't force them out. He never cried, not after his childhood. And he forgot how to do it in the long years when he forgot how to be a human, how to love and care for others. He heard Mila tossing and turning, heard quiet sobs but didn't know how to comfort her. He could not comfort even himself and the memories came and ravaged his brain and made him see things he didn't want to see. Lydia smiling, Lydia laughing, her green eyes sparkling. Lydia here and Lydia there, wherever he turned his gaze. Breezehome was coated with her presence; it was her home more than it was his. He closed his eyes and covered his ears with his hands. He didn't want to see or hear her like this but Lydia lived inside his mind and no matter how much he tried to block her, her laughter echoed loud and clear somewhere in the empty hallways of his soul.

Mila's warm, tiny hand caressed his shoulder and he flinched underneath that gentle touch. He raised his head and looked at the girl. Her eyes were swollen and red. She shed tears for both of them. She had clearly been crying for hours. Her lower lip was bleeding, she had bitten it so hard. Her hair was tangled and knotted and she seemed so much older than a young, innocent child her age should look.

"It was my fault, wasn't it?" Mila stuttered. "First mother and now Lydia…"

How easy it would have been to insert quilt into that fragile little mind. To make her take all the blame, to force her to carry the burden of two dead people on her shoulders. She loved them both and they were taken from her, violently and suddenly. For a brief moment he wanted to nod, to say " _yes, it was entirely your fault, Mila!_ " The old J'Ziir would have done that without regrets. But Lydia would have killed him for that. And in the end, it was a lie. Mila was not responsible for what happened. He took her small hands into his and shook his head.

"No," he whispered to her. "It wasn't your fault."

"But if I hadn't run…"

"It wasn't your fault," J'Ziir repeated and looked her in the eyes. "It was never your fault."

She broke out in desperate sobs, pressed her head against his chest and cried for both of them. She called out for Lydia and even though J'Ziir didn't make a sound, his heart wailed like Mila. His pain was too raw, he could not handle it with tears or with screams. He could only sit and burn, let the slow, torturous flames of pain scorch him. Eventually, sleep took the little girl to a land where Lydia was still alive and well. J'Ziir held her in his arms and stayed awake. He remembered that night, not very long ago. He told her he loved her, accepted her inside his heart. Admits all this pain and grief and darkness, he suddenly felt a small glimmer of happiness.

That he was able to tell her. Tell her he loved her. Before the end.


	118. Chapter 118

**118.**

Sura held both pieces of the Eye in her palm. They were silent and dead like the people who once created them. She caressed the jewels and sighed. She did not want this to happen. The reason the visions came to her…weren't they a warning? She should have been able to stop it from happening. She closed her hand, opened the desk drawer and stuffed the jewel out of her sight. She was having enough of her father's mind games. If all of this was meant to end in Lydia's death, why couldn't he just tell her so, with clear words? Not speak in riddles and spout some mystical nonsense, spell after another.

" _I thought I was clear. I once told you: if she dies, he won't survive either."_

She flinched when she heard his familiar, comforting voice. No father! she screamed internally. You didn't tell me who you were talking about! If you'd told me it was Lydia! If only told me…! I could have saved her! Stopped this from ever happening! Now there is no going back! I can't undo this, no matter how hard I want to!

" _Return to us! Do you remember? Make her return."_

Sura froze in her place.  _Return to us!_  Could she…was it really possible? No! It wasn't! You can't bring people back from the dead! Lydia was gone, J'Ziir took her body somewhere, and even they didn't know where he buried her. And I already tried! The Eye does nothing. It only works with J'Ziir and me. Why did you make it so?

_"The Eye does work. But you need the spell! You forgot the spell!"_

The spell? she raised her eyebrows. The spell…the scroll from his chest, the one she stuffed in her knapsack thinking she might need it later. Where did I put it? she frantically began to search for it. She rummaged through the room and was starting to panic when she couldn't find her knapsack. Then she remembered she left the whole thing inside their bedroom, right next to the cupboards. She stormed inside, located her pack and poured its content onto the bed. And there it was, tucked between her spare clothes and her notebook.

She took the scroll in her hands and tore it open. Her hands were shaking and she was barely able to read it. It was filled with his father's handwriting, detailing what she needed to do, what J'Ziir needed to do. What would happen and how this was their final departing gift. The remaining power in the Eye was meant for Lydia. Sura covered her mouth with her hand and the pain and the grief for Lydia's death subsided. She felt tremendous gratitude and relief. There was still so much to do but if they managed to pull this through, then maybe, just maybe…Lydia might still return to them.

Suddenly she was filled with hope and the tiredness faded. The Eye was the key, everything depended on it. She jumped from the bed, grabbed the scroll and ran to the study. With trembling hands, she searched for the necklace and squeezed it inside her fist. She needed it, J'Ziir had to take her to Lydia. And the two most important men in her life were forced to finally trust in one another. They both played an important part in the journey to come. J'Ziir needed to go without his half of the Eye. It could not protect him on this journey so something else to take its place.  _Someone_  else. There was no time to lose and she realized they had to work as fast as possible. The window was very small and the longer Lydia's spirit was separated from her body, the harder it was to reunite the two. It was unheard of, completely impossible! But their father had foreseen this, years and years ago and he prepared accordingly, battled death itself and exchanged two lives for four. She hurried out of her quarters and found Vilkas upstairs. He was talking with Farkas, both men were quiet and respectful. When she rampaged up the stairs, they glanced at her and then at each other. This sudden noise and movement felt almost sacrilegious.

"What's going on?" Vilkas asked Sura and was surprised to see her smile.

"We need to go," Sura explained. "There's not much time."

"Hold on!" he held her back when she rushed towards the door. "What's happening?"

"Do you remember the scrolls we found in Winterhold?" Sura asked him and Vilkas nodded and observed his wife carefully. He was worried that Lydia's death caused her to see hallucinations, maybe even hear things and her stressed mind created tasks she couldn't complete. "There's a way to get Lydia back. My father…he figured out a solution!"

"What?" Farkas snorted. "To get her back? Like, summon her corpse or something else as gross?"

"No!" Sura punched him in the shoulder. "It's complicated. We have to act soon or it might be too late."

"Is this one of your father's…wild creations?" Vilkas was having a hard time believing her.

"Yes!" Sura's eyes gleamed dangerously. "It is! It's his wildest creation of all!"

Vilkas was sure this was some desperate attempt to avoid reality. Maybe Sura didn't want to believe Lydia was gone and some strange, moldy scroll from the deepest depths of the College of Winterhold had her believing in this madness. He wanted to believe that's all it was. But seeing Jo'Azirr's spells in action, working like a dream, without a single error, he was having a hard time convincing himself.

"You can't bring her back, love," Vilkas said with a compassionate voice.

"Maybe I can't," her lower lip quivered. "But I'm going to try. With or without you."

"Stop it," Vilkas pulled her in his arms. "You know I'll support you through anything, but this…I know it's hard to accept."

"Don't you remember when everyone was ready to give up on you?" Sura muttered against his chest. "When everyone, including you, told me that I should let go. That you shouldn't suffer any longer."

"This is different," Vilkas's eyes were clouded with sorrow. "She's gone, for good."

"When no one else believed," Sura continued. "I didn't give up then. And I won't give up now. Lydia is my best friend, my sister. I love her as much as I love you. If I don't use this opportunity, I'm going to regret it for the rest of my life. And I can't bear to see J'Ziir like this, I can't!"

There were so many ways, so many arguments he could have used but Vilkas knew he couldn't hold her back. He still had this illusion in his head where Sura was defenseless, maybe even a little weak, a woman he was meant to protect. He was ready to hit himself for painting such a cowardly image of her, after everything she had done. Her words were true. She hadn't given up on him and if there truly was a chance to save…well, get Lydia back somehow, he knew she would take every chance she got.

"Alright," Vilkas agreed, although a little reluctantly. "Alright...what's this great plan of yours then?"

"You and J'Ziir need to go to Sovngarde," Sura said. The brothers remained quiet, not because they didn't have anything to ask but because they couldn't. All of this sounded too unrealistic.

"So…Sovngarde?" Vilkas grimaced. "You do know there's no way to get there without dying."

"I know what it sounds like," Sura tried to contain her own excitement. "But there is no other way. You need to go there, locate Lydia and…face the World-Eater."


	119. Chapter 119

**119.**

Breezehome was far from cozy when they entered it half an hour later. Mila opened the door and tried to brush away the empty mead bottles and dirty plates and tankards. There was a guilty look on her face like this somehow was her fault. The place felt cold and unwelcoming. Sura rubbed her arms and when she asked about J'Ziir, Mila pointed upstairs. He had been there for days now.

She made her way to his room and when he pushed the door open, the smell of sweat, dirt and moldy cheese drifted into the hallway. She gagged, had to cover her nose and breathe through her mouth. J'Ziir was lying on his bed, wearing nothing but his breeches. The floor was littered with empty bottles and covered with rotting food, dry pieces of bread and crumbles of something that reminded her of moon sugar. She frowned and was both angry and disappointed. This was how J'Ziir took care of Mila. If Lydia saw this, she would be furious. She walked up to him and kicked him in the leg. He just mumbled something and turned his back to her. She pulled out the dirty covers under him and sent him flying to the floor. She heard a low thumb when his head hit the floorboards.

Even in his drunken stupor, he was dangerous and unpredictable. But this was her brother and she knew him inside out. When he crawled back to the bed and glared at her with bloodshot eyes, she used one of her ice spells and sent a whirlwind of freezing air towards him. When it hit him, the cold air got him moving. He rushed out of the bedroom, staggered at the top of the stairs and went flying down, his arms and legs spread out like he really thought he had wings. Sura cringed when she heard him land with a loud crash. Maybe she was a bit too cruel. Then she hardened herself. This was not a time for tenderness or softness. If they were going to succeed, J'Ziir had to be sharp and at his best. They would not get another chance at this.

Mila pulled Vilkas further back when the injured, half drunk, hangover, fully grown and enraged Khajiit got to his feet. Sura walked downstairs calmly and asked Mila to head to the back room and fill the tub with water. The girl was pale but nodded and hurried along. Sura gathered up some wood and with a snap of her fingers, she lit the fire and the whole room became much brighter but not very cozy. It was still dirty and cold. She turned to her brother and stared at him.

"So, this is how you take care of Mila?" Sura asked with a stern voice.

"What do you want?" J'Ziir groaned. "Leave me alone."

"Not a chance!" Sura grabbed his arm when he tried to escape back upstairs. "You're not going anywhere."

"You think I won't throw you two out!" J'Ziir yanked his arm away. "Just because you are my sister doesn't mean you're that special."

"Get in the bath!" Sura pointed at the backroom. "You stink! And wash your mouth while you're at it. Your breath smells awful!"

J'Ziir straightened his back, took a few steps forward and scowled at her. She didn't retreat and stared right back at him. He left her in his shadow, he was much taller, much bigger and more muscular than her. But she wasn't afraid of him. She was only afraid of what would happen to him if Lydia wouldn't return. They stood like that for a moment, battling it out with their eyes. Finally, he lowered his gaze and grunted. Sura guided him towards the back room and when she heard the water splash, he smiled at Mila. She checked the counters and found only scraps of food. She told Mila to run to Jorrvaskr and get something to eat. Farkas was around and he was always willing to help pretty girls. Mila gave her a weak smile and left.

"We feed him and we clean him," Vilkas scratched his head. "Then what?"

"He must take me to Lydia," Sura planned. "And then…you two have to find a way to Sovngarde."

"You really want me to go as well?" Vilkas asked. He wasn't afraid, but he doubted J'Ziir's willingness to take him along.

"You need to protect him," Sura explained. "I need the Eye and his mind is overwhelmed right now. You need to be his shield for now. Will you…will you do it?"

"If he accepts me," Vilkas agreed.

"He will," Sura nodded. "I'll make sure of it."

Vilkas watched her and admired her determination and her courage. Sura was not the type to give up, she held on when there was nothing but darkness surrounding her. She was like a bright life guiding them all in the right direction. He did not know how their lives would have turned out without her. None of them would be here now if fate hadn't intervened that day and send Kodlak to rescue her. She was the best thing in his life and he was often terrified of losing her but her presence, her will and sheer strength of character made him do his best and try even harder for them all.

A door creaked open and J'Ziir dragged himself out of the backroom. He was clean, his fur was dripping with water but his eyes were dark and dangerous. Reluctantly he sat down next to them and stared at his sister.

"If you came here to check up on me, just go," J'Ziir waved his hand. "I'm not in the mood to open up right now. Talking doesn't help."

"Do you want some apple pie?" Sura asked but J'Ziir didn't even raise his eyes. "A sweet roll? You need to eat before we leave."

"Leave?" he huffed. "Yes, you go! I'm heading back to upstairs!"

"We are all going!" Sura claimed. "You, me and Vilkas. Mila can stay in Jorrvaskr for now. Farkas likes her company, they have fun together."

"I bet he does," J'Ziir growled. "And when she grows up a little more, he likes her even better."

"Oh, it's the angry, revengeful Dragonborn of the olden days," Sura sighed. "What a pleasure. Can you please ask my brother to come out to play? The one who loves Lydia and Mila. I need to talk to him."

J'Ziir didn't answer but he wasn't in a hurry to get back upstairs anymore. He scratched his chin, his tail swung like he was considering something and he was listening. At least with his other ear. Sura waited even though she knew time was ticking away. But to get J'Ziir on board, she had to wait for the right moment. This old J'Ziir, with his nasty remarks and constant insults, would not play along. She needed the newer one, who joked around with her, hugged her when he left and promised to come back.

"What do you want?" J'Ziir finally asked and his voice was a bit softer.

"We can get Lydia back," Sura went straight to the business. "It will be difficult, complicated and Divines help us – very risky, but we have to try!"

"G..get..her back?" J'Ziir muttered. "What?"

"It's the Eye!" Sura wanted to shake him to get moving. "Father knew this might happen and he prepared for it."

"The Eye?" J'Ziir didn't get up. He wasn't as excited as Sura anticipated. "If this is about father and one of his magical tricks, I don't want to hear about it. He couldn't even save himself, let alone his family."

"He saved us," Sura pointed out. "And helped me to save Vilkas. He spared your life all these years. If we waste this gift…"

"Gift?" J'Ziir spat. "A curse, you mean! Some strange illusion that's not real!"

"Tell me where you took her," Sura said. "Tell me. I need to be there when you two come back."

"Let Lydia rest in peace," J'Ziir stood up. "You and father are the same. If he was practicing necromancy and you somehow inherited that "gift" and thought it's a good idea to try it out on Lydia, you better think again. Kill a bandit and try it on him!"

"I love Lydia!" Sura shouted, stood up and pushed him back in his chair. "Like I love you! Do you think I want to see you miserable for the rest of your life? Do you think you're the only one who lost her? No! She was mine first. Long before you ever came to Whiterun! She was my sister! My family, when you, mother and father were all gone. She didn't abandon me. And you can be damn sure, I won't abandon her now!"

Her ferocity took him by surprise. He glanced at Vilkas who shook his head and gestured him to shut his mouth. J'Ziir had never seen her so angry. True, in the days that passed, he wallowed in his own grief and self-pity not really caring what others thought or felt. And yes – he wasn't the only one who loved Lydia, but it was easy to forget there were others. And of course, he remembered Sura's will and conviction when she refused to let Vilkas go. And in the end, she managed to save him. He was sitting right there, next to him and trying to signal to him with his eyes. " _Don't antagonize her, she's much scarier than you'd think!"_  He cleared his throat and leaned back. He was actually a little afraid of her like he once was his mother, but now he was willing to listen.

"Fine, you love Lydia," J'Ziir shrugged. "Let's hear this plan of yours then."

Sura smiled but the dangerous, dedicated gleam in her eyes remained. It was almost like Namada reached out from somewhere and sprinkled some of her own tenacity on her. But she didn't need to do much anymore, her daughter carried herself with dignity and she pulled others with her, even when they didn't want to be pulled. Sura took out the old scroll and the Eye. The two halves weren't even united but they glowed vigorously, the familiar blue glow pulsed around them like a beating heart.

"Take me to Lydia," Sura looked at J'Ziir. "You need to find a way to Sovngarde and locate her spirit. Only then I can pull her back and use what's left in the Eye."

"Sovngarde?" J'Ziir gawked. "What…?"

"You sent the World-Eater there," Sura reminded him. "Alduin is devouring the souls of the dead. You need to find her before…J'Ziir…I can't bring her back if…"

"I'll get my gear," J'Ziir interrupted her and jumped up.

His head was now completely clear. His heart calm. He would have to face the World-Eater after all. That didn't scare him. It was a secondary matter. If the big, black lizard stood in his way and blocked his path to Lydia, he would just carve his way through him. He would enter Sovngarde alive. He would leave alive and he would take Lydia back, no matter.

He lost her once. If he had a chance to get her back, he would not lose her second time.


	120. Chapter 120

**120.**

J'Ziir and Vilkas rode back to Whiterun three days later. They were coming from the Throat of the World where both men escorted Sura. J'Ziir was worried for her but as soon as she lost herself in a long conversation with Paarthurnax, all his worried dissipated. She had a tent, lots of supplies and warm clothes. And the grandpa had someone to talk to. They were made for each other. While visiting the place, he refused to look at the stone sarcophagus where Lydia still lied, cold, motionless and dead. If this wouldn't work, if his father's plan and his magic wouldn't help, it would be impossible to let her go for the second time. At this point, he didn't dare to hope. He didn't dare to dream. Right now he had a mission and he would complete it. He was as determined as he used to be when Jarl Ulfric was still alive and his only goal was to end his life. He had plenty of time to think later.

It was strange to travel with Vilkas. Every time he said something he half expected Lydia's voice behind him, to make some witty remark or a stupid joke. They had very little to talk about and after a few unremarkable and unimportant sentences they both grew quiet. It was easier that way. They didn't waste any time when they arrived at the city. The two men headed straight towards the Dragonsreach and as they stepped inside the longhouse, the main hall went eerily silent. Of course, everyone knew what happened in Windhelm. Lydia's gruesome fate touched them all but so far no one was brave enough to face the Dragonborn. It was a surprise to see him there, walking around like nothing happened. Jarl Balgruuf was ready to offer his condolences but his mouth dropped open when he heard J'Ziir words.

"We need to trap a dragon in your palace," he said.

A simultaneous, audible gasp traveled through the longhouse. Guards stopped where they stood, Irileth eyed the Jarl and placed her hand to the sword. Farengar peeked out from his study and was immediately fascinated. Vilkas closed his eye momentarily and sighed.

"I…I must have misheard you," Jarl Balgruuf chuckled nervously. "I thought you said you wanted to…"

"…trap a dragon in your palace!" J'Ziir repeated and now the irritation echoed clearly from his voice. "It's the only way to get Lydia back!"

"And stop the dragons!" Vilkas added. He realized now why Sura wanted him to come along. Not just for protection but to keep J'Ziir on the right path. No one would help them just for Lydia. There had to be a bigger cause. And just because J'Ziir did this for Lydia, they needed to end the dragons as well. Also, the Companions had influence and their name held a certain amount of respect.

"I'm sorry, I can't do it!" Jarl Balgruuf stood up. "Whiterun was just attacked, not too long ago! The dragon and the Stormcloaks both took a terrible toll on us. If I trap a dragon inside this reach, the rest of us are as good as dead! Now, I understand what happened to Lydia was terrible, but…"

J'Ziir stepped closer and Jarl Balgruuf took a few steps back. Irileth was immediately by his side, her sharp sword pressed against J'Ziir neck. He didn't back away but his eyes moved to the Dark Elf who was once again threatening his life.

"I asked you once, Dunmer," J'Ziir hissed. "Are you willing to finish the job? Well, now is your chance! Give it your best shot!"

"Stop this!" Vilkas rushed forward and pulled J'Ziir back. "Let's not be hasty…"

"We don't have much time!" J'Ziir pushed Irileth's sword aside and grabbed the Jarl by his collar. "We need to get to Sovngarde! And we need to find out how. And the only way to find out is to trap a dragon in this palace! It was built for it, wasn't it?"

"This is your last warning,  _cat!_ " Irileth growled. "Back off!"

"What you're asking is insane," Jarl Balgruuf tried to calm the situation down. He raised his hand towards Irileth and shook his head. The housecarl retreated, although reluctantly. "There must be another way. The risk is too great!"

"It's worse than that!" Vilkas stepped up and the frustrated Khajiit tossed the Jarl backward and he slumped back to his throne. He glanced his brother-in-law who rolled his eyes at him. "The World-Eater has returned. We need to stop him!"

"The…World-Eater himself?" Jarl Balgruuf stuttered. "But…how can we fight him? Doesn't his return mean the end times?"

"Nothing's over yet," J'Ziir murmured.

"It's only hopeless if we give up now," Vilkas persuaded.

The Jarl looked at his housecarl, and then his steward who was smiling like all of this was just some sort of game of pretend. The Jarl frowned, rubbed his beard and stood up. J'Ziir was barely able to hold his tongue and he thought about the time that was ticking. Like fine sand in the other side of the hourglass, slowly but surely draining away. And Lydia...Lydia...

"I want to help you, Dragonborn," the Jarl finally said. "I really do. And if this is truly the only way…?"

"It is," J'Ziir nodded.

Jarl Balgruuf took a deep breath and then he turned his gaze towards Irileth. His housecarl sheathed her sword and stared at him. She was having a hard time believing that the Jarl would actually listen to this nonsense. But when he gave the order to prepare the great porch and check the old equipment, there was no time to question him. Suddenly the whole reach was filled with action, people running here and there, guards yelling orders to each other and the palace maids hurrying down to their quarters.

A few hours later everything was finally ready. J'Ziir and Vilkas joined the Jarl and his men up in the porch. The night was quiet, almost too calm and beautiful for something like this. It was the kind of the night where you just wanted to go to the nearest lake, lay down in the ground and watch the sky throughout the evening. See how the stars glided above you, how few stray clouds drifted across the great vastness and how the Aurora's began to dance. It was hard to imagine that anything was wrong with such a beautiful world.

"So," Vilkas began when they walked across the porch. "What's going to happen exactly?"

"I have no idea," J'Ziir said.

"Haven't you…done this before?" Vilkas continued.

"I've killed the dragons I've fought," J'Ziir grinned. "Never had much time to for small talk. Are you afraid?"

"No," Vilkas shook his head. "Just curious. What do you usually talk about…with the old dragon? Up in the mountain?"

J'Ziir stopped and stared at him for a moment. "Grandpa usually does the talking. Do you want some cooking recipes? How long to char human flesh? I doubt that's very useful for a werewolf. I got the impression you and Raji eat your meals raw."

"It's kind of delicious that way," Vilkas chuckled. "You should give it a try."

"I'll pass," J'Ziir grunted. "I already destroyed one cannibal cult in Markarth. Don't give me a reason to get rid of you and Raji as well."

"You love us, no matter how many raw bandits we eat," Vilkas pointed out.

"Is it too late to change you for someone else?" J'Ziir grimaced.

"Sorry," Vilkas smirked. "Just trying to lighten up the mood."

"Don't," J'Ziir shook his head. "You're not very good at it."

"Right, brother," Vilkas pat him in the back. J'Ziir eyed him cautiously and moved a little further away.

"I have no idea what Raji sees in you," J'Ziir muttered. "I'm glad I'm not the one married to you. Couldn't stand the pillow talk."

"Hey!" Vilkas pretended to be offended. "I'm actually quite good at it. I could give you some pointers…if you ever need…help…in that…area…"

"Let's get that dragon here!" J'Ziir interrupted him quickly and his eyes darted towards the sky.

He walked forward and Jarl Balgruuf looked at him. Their eyes met and the Jarl nodded to him. Everyone was ready. The trap was set. Now the only thing they needed was the hunter and his prey. J'Ziir didn't hesitate when he released his Thu'um. It echoed through the skies and many of the guards covered their ears. J'Ziir's hands gripped the stone when the pain washed over him when it threatened to bring him down to his knees but he kept his eyes open. He could stand much more than this…for Lydia. The red haze danced around in the edges of his vision but he ignored it.

It was quiet. No one moved. No one made a sound. Then they heard it. Like a giant bird, flying towards them with its leathery wings. A shadow glided over them, the air pressure almost pushed one of the guards to the ground. Jarl Balgruuf ordered his men back. J'Ziir pulled out his axes and smiled. This encounter reminded him of the distant day when he was leaving Whiterun but needed gold for a better armor and weapons. How that day changed his life around and ultimately led him to this point.

"Let's dance, dragon," he whispered.

The giant red lizard came crashing down on top of them. Its wings were glowing bright blue and it was enveloped by the shout that ultimately forced it to land. Everyone was told that they needed it alive. Despite that few of the guards panicked and began shooting arrows at it. The dragon roared but not because of pain. Its hide was thick and scaly and the arrows just bounced off of it. It was about to launch a fireball towards its attackers when J'Ziir smacked its head with his ax. He knew one swing wouldn't bring the beast down but at least he got its attention. The dragon faced him and when it rushed forward, he backed away. Not too fast so it wouldn't lose interest. From the corner of his eye, he saw the Jarl, saw the men up in the sidewalks just waiting for his signal. The dragon followed, he could feel the hot breath on his skin and he only wished he would get far enough before it decided to launch a fireball towards him and burn the whole Reach down.

When the beast was close enough he signaled to the men up in the sidewalks. The chains began to rustle and the huge, wooden trap smashed down. It worked perfectly and locked the trashing lizard to its place. J'Ziir turned to it, he was panting and gasping for air. He was never like this when he was forced to kill one of these things. But keeping this one alive made the plan so much more dangerous. He realized the dragon was trapped, it couldn't escape but that didn't stop it from releasing bursts of flames all over the place. He glanced at Vilkas who stood next to him, shield in his hand. If the dragon decided to get rid of them, that puny little thing wouldn't help them at all.

"Zu'u bonaar. You went to a great deal of trouble to put me in this…humiliating position."

J'Ziir frowned and took a step closer. This one was actually willing to talk. It was a rare thing, usually, all these scaly beasts just burned down as many houses as they could and slaughter as many people as they managed. He circled the dragon but made sure he was far enough from its massive jaws. Getting stuck between its teeth was not part of his plans for today.

"How does it feel, lizard?" J'Ziir asked. "To be trapped like a tiny rabbit, just waiting for the hunters to arrive. All of this because of your pride."

"Hind siiv Alduin, hmm?" Odahviing ignored his mocking words. "No doubt you want to know where to find him."

"I'm not here to bargain with you," J'Ziir stated.

"One reason I came to your call was to test your Thu'um myself," Odavhiing continued. "Many of us have begun to question Alduin's lordship, whether his Thu'um was truly the strongest."

"As if that matters," J'Ziir shrugged. "Your pecking order doesn't interest me. Tell me how to get to him!"

"But none were yet ready to openly defy him," Odavhiing concluded. "Unslaad krosis. I digress."

"A dragon that's looking for someone to talk to," Vilkas crossed his arms. "Are they all like this?"

"So far, just grandpa and this one," J'Ziir noted. "Why? Do you want to take notes?"

"I wouldn't mind hearing a good story or two," Vilkas's mouth twitched.

"If we survive this, I'll give you an interview," J'Ziir snorted. "Exclusively."

"Good enough, I suppose," Vilkas smirked.

J'Ziir cleared his throat and wondered what was wrong with them. Joking around like this when Sura anxiously waited for them at the Throat of the World and Lydia's spirit wandered around in Sovngarde. He eventually realized that this situation was too serious, their journey too dangerous. They both tried to keep each other sane while the world took them to places they had no right to be at. And if a few awful jokes and stupid puns was a way to hold on the reality, he took whatever Vilkas had to offer.

"Alduin has traveled to Sovngarde," Odavhiing explained. "To regain his strength he is devouring the…souls of the mortal dead. A privilege he jealously guards…"

"I know where he is!" J'Ziir interrupted the dragon. "Just tell me how to get there!"

"His door to Sovngarde is at Skuldafn, one of his ancient fanes high in the eastern mountains," Odavhiing finally revealed.

"That's where we need to go then," J'Ziir concluded.

"Surely I don't need to warn you that all of his remaining strength is marshaled there," Odavhiing chuckled.

"I've faced worse than few draugrs," J'Ziir sighed and turned to Vilkas. "Coming?"

"Are you really asking me that?" Vilkas sheathed his sword. "Sura would kill me if I let you go alone. And there's been enough death in our family for now."

"She might not have the opportunity," J'Ziir pointed out. "It's Sovngarde were heading to. She could be the last one left standing…of  _our_  family."

"Not if I have anything to say about that," Vilkas pat his back. "So, how do we get to this place? What was it…Skuldafn?"

"Wait!" Jarl Balgruuf hurried to them. "You can't just go and leave this…dragon trapped in my reach! It's alive and able to kill the rest of us!"

"What? You want me to kill it?" J'Ziir asked. He was kind of reluctant to do that. The pain got stronger with each soul he absorbed and still, no one was able to give him a reason for it. Paarthurnax probably knew but he refused to talk about it.

"I have answered your question, will you allow me to go free?" Odavhiing rumbled.

"Free?" Jarl Balgruuf was horrified. "Never!"

"He might be…a useful ally," Vilkas suggested.

"Or he might just kill us all if we let him go!" J'Ziir snapped.

"They doubt Alduin's lordship," Vilkas pointed out. "If he is on our side, think of the advantages. And the old dragon living on top of the mountain hasn't tried to kill us so far."

J'Ziir glanced at Jarl Balgruuf who shook his head vigorously. Vilkas was right, grandpa offered guidance and help. But this dragon, trapped right in front of them, was different. Younger, more agile and potentially more dangerous. But he didn't have too many allies and if he could persuade this lizard on his side, it would give them unexpected benefits.

"There is one more…detail about Skuldafn, I neglected to mention," Odavhiing observed him.

"Not to make things too easy for us," J'Ziir walked closer and leaned his shoulder against the huge head of the dragon. "What's that, big guy?"

"You have the Thu'um of a dovah, but without the wings of one, you will never set foot in Skuldafn," Odavhiing said.

"We can't reach it by land?" Vilkas frowned. "That does…present a new problem."

"Of course…I could fly you there," Odavhiing suggested. "But not while imprisoned like this."

"It's an obvious trap!" Jarl Balgruuf bellowed.

"Do you expect me to trust you? A dragon, which just attacked me a few seconds ago?" J'Ziir pulled out his ax and caressed the dragon's neck with its sharp blade. It was almost fascinating to see how the scales ripples and the muscles twitched underneath his touch.

"I cannot leave here until you defeat Alduin," Odavhiing observed. "But you cannot do it without my help."

"He has a point," Vilkas finally said. "J'Ziir…we don't have much time. Either we take this chance and risk our lives or we leave him here, do nothing and lose everything."

J'Ziir didn't reply but he knew Vilkas was right. They didn't have time to waste. He faced the dragon, looked straight into its eyes and said: "I will set you free. But you better take us to Skuldafn or I cut your head off in midair. Is that clear?"

Jarl Balgruuf was clearly unhappy with his decision but he didn't stand on his way when he signaled to the guards who were standing up in the sidewalks. After a moment's hesitation, they pulled the levers which lifted the massive trap. The red dragon stretched its neck and spread its wings. It turned, headed towards the balcony and stopped right at the edge. Then it faced the Dragonborn.

"I await your command, as promised!" Odavhiing declared. "Are you ready to see the world as only a dovah can?"

"Well, our ride is waiting for us," J'Ziir grinned to Vilkas. "Ready, brother?"

Vilkas cleared his throat and straightened his back. He wasn't afraid of where they were going. But he didn't really like high places and flying on top of a dragon was something he never imagined doing. Despite his nervousness, he climbed after J'Ziir and settled himself behind him. He placed his hands on his shoulders but before they left, J'Ziir grabbed his arms and pulled them around his waist.

"Don't get any weird ideas," the Khajiit hissed. "I just don't want to scrape you off the ground like a flattened piece of dough."

"If I wasn't married to Sura," Vilkas shot back. "I might be tempted to do more than fly with you."

"You wish!" J'Ziir snorted.

"Is it…too late to change my mind?" Vilkas asked when the giant creature began to move under them.

"Yes, unless you want me to shove you back down," J'Ziir muttered.

"I'll take my chances with you!" Vilkas squeezed his waist a little harder when the giant wings spread out and the dragon leaned forward. "Just remember…I'm part of your family! So don't leave me behind!"

"I'm tempted, wolf!" J'Ziir's mouth curved into a smile. "I'm tempted."


	121. Chapter 121

**121.**

By the time they finally reached the weird, glowing portal to Sovngarde, J'Ziir was eternally grateful that he hadn't come alone. Yes, he had faced draugrs before, but not hordes and hordes of draugr deathlords that just kept coming, one after another. And top of that, few angry dragons spouting fire and flames above their heads. Turned out Vilkas' shield was not that tiny and useless after all. It deflected dozens of arrows and saved his life a couple of times. When the cursed souls of the dead dragons forced their way into his body, he was completely vulnerable and unable to move. During those times Vilkas kept him alive, took most of the hits and suffered many painful injuries because of him. One more enemy stood between them and the magical gateway. J'Ziir had encountered few of these ancient dragon priests and knew they could be sneaky, dangerous and all around difficult to take down. But back then it was just him against them. Not even Lydia had ever faced one of these things. Now he suddenly had an ally who covered his back when he needed it. It was strange but utterly fantastic. He didn't even have to think of a strategy when the creature was already reduced into a pile of ash. The portal was closed but they discovered the staff in the strange pile of debris which opened the way forward. The stone circle began to crack and an eerie blue glow surrounded them. J'Ziir glanced at his companion who was as determined as he was. Neither one of them hesitated when they leaped forward and entered a world so strange and beautiful, yet so filled with desperation and anguish.

High mountains surrounded the valley; the sky was blazing above them, the colors bright and gorgeous and almost too blinding to look at. But everything around them was covered in a thick, suffocating fog. They could only see a few steps ahead and a large path led to the other side of the valley. From somewhere among the mist they heard sounds and noises. Screams, wails, and sobs. And far away above them the large shape of a black creature glided across the land and occasionally dove down. Sovngarde was far from the Nordic heaven they both had envisioned.

At that point, when they were finally there, wounded, tired and covered in blood, J'Ziir's hidden hope and his need to find Lydia, to have her back, emerged. Till this point he hadn't allowed any hope in his heart, he refused to think about her and denied everything he felt for her. But knowing that she was somewhere here, lost in this smothering fog, caused his heart to leap forward. Vilkas was barely able to follow him when he rushed ahead and yelled her name. He hurried after him and grabbed his arm but J'Ziir was beyond reason and he just yanked his arm off and continued on. Vilkas called out to him a couple of times but the stubborn Khajiit ignored him. Vilkas gripped his shield and bashed him in the head with it. That stopped him to his tracks and he turned to him, anger blazing in his eyes. He strolled to him and pushed his face so close that Vilkas was able to smell his breath. He didn't retreat and faced his companion head on.

"What…are you doing?" J'Ziir spat at him.

"Calm down!" Vilkas ordered and wiped the drops of saliva from his cheek. "We are not going to find her if we just run around aimlessly."

"Have you forgotten that we have a time limit here?" J'Ziir growled but his anger began to fade. Vilkas was right but it was difficult for him to admit it. He wasn't used to taking orders from anyone.

"I have not," Vilkas replied. "But we'll lose more time if we go in circles. Now, we need to know where we are going. Ideas?"

His question forced him to think more clearly. The need to find Lydia constantly drummed somewhere in the back of his head and the anxiety squeezed his heart. But if they had any hope of getting her back, they had to work together and be efficient. Eventually, he nodded. They had to be able to see where they were going. He had one Thu'um that could clear the way but it meant experiencing the pain over and over again. He reminded himself of why he was doing this. Not because of Skyrim…but because of Lydia. He turned around and used the shout to clear their way. Immediately the waves of nausea washed over him but he felt Vilkas' arm on his shoulder and he was once again ridiculously grateful for his strength and support.

They continued on. The path led them forward and every now and then they encountered soldiers who knew nothing and were enveloped in their nightmarish landscapes. The souls told them to turn back and avoid the terror that waited in the mist. Their faces were empty, pale and dead. Their black, blank eyes stared at them with nothingness and their bodies were still marked by the horrific wounds that led to their deaths. J'Ziir tried to keep his thoughts together but like a venomous snake, the image slithered into his mind. What if Lydia was like that as well? Repeating the same words over and over again. What if she wouldn't even recognize him? What if all she was able to say where those hollow words of warning, telling him to turn back. What if…there was no way…to bring her back?

Vilkas nudged him and dragged him back to reality. They arrived at a small clearing. A huge bridge made out of gigantic bones led over a deep chasm. On the other side stood a massive building which reached high up, towards the blazing, blinding heaven. A strong, muscular man stood at the entrance of the bridge and when he saw them, he called them out.

"What brings you here, wayfarer grim, to wander here, in Sovngarde, souls-end, Shor's gift to honored dead?" he asked and his voice was booming and low.

"We're…looking for someone," J'Ziir simply said.

"And we pursue Alduin, the World-Eater," Vilkas added. J'Ziir wouldn't get very far with his sulky attitude.

"A fateful errand," the man said. "No few have chafed the face the Worm since first the set his soul-snare here, at Sovngarde's threshold."

"The worm?" J'Ziir chuckled. "An appropriate name for that coward."

"We seek entrance to the Hall of Valor," Vilkas continued.

"No, we don't," J'Ziir shook his head. "All we need to do is find Lydia and get out of here."

"She's lost in this mist!" Vilkas crossed his arms. "And the mist is caused by the World-Eater. We'll never find her before we defeat him."

"That takes too long!" J'Ziir shouted.

"And you think that looking for her, searching up and down without knowing where we're supposed to go, is a better idea?" Vilkas cocked his eyebrow. "Even if we find her, Skyrim is still in peril! We can end this for good now that we are actually here!"

"Fine, you play the big Nordic hero!" J'Ziir groaned and turned to the man who stood by the bridge. "This man  _right here_  is the famous Dragonborn of the legend. He's here to defeat this " _Worm_ " of yours! I'm just his sidekick."

"A Dragonborn!" the man sighed. "It's been too long since last I faced a doom-driven hero of the dragon blood!"

"Now, wait just a minute…," Vilkas tried but he was forced to take a step back when the man pulled out his massive war ax. "What…?"

"Living or dead, by decree of Shor, none may pass this perilous bridge 'til I judge them worthy by the warrior's test," the man said with a cold voice.

J'Ziir crossed his arms and glanced at Vilkas. He leaned against a huge pillar and yawned. Vilkas couldn't believe his eyes. J'Ziir was actually going to just stand and watch as he faced this massive giant. He glared at the Khajiit but he simply shrugged and smiled.

"I'm…I'm not the Dragonborn!" Vilkas shouted angrily.

"Living or dead," the man repeated. "None may pass."

He swung his massive ax and Vilkas barely managed to dodge in time. He heard the sound, how the air swooshed when the weapon moved rapidly over his head. Little lower and it would have separated his head from his shoulders with one clean swipe. He pulled his shield up, gripped his sword and was able to block the two, quick slashes that came at him. He was so concentrated on the battle, so eager to get out of here alive and survive this that he didn't notice how J'Ziir's eyes followed him around. The Khajiit was quite impressed. He didn't expect this, someone to fight his battles for him. Of course, he didn't give Vilkas a choice in the matter but nevertheless, it was a surprise.

" _This is not the reason I sent him with you! So you could take advantage of him, pretend to be something you're not!"_

Raji's voice echoed in his ears and he flinched when he heard it. He cleared his throat and tried to shake off the feeling of the quilt. He knew she was right and he didn't really understand why he tried to avoid this confrontation. Maybe he simply wanted to be rid of the title, shake his destiny to someone else, find Lydia and leave.

_"Life is not about what we want! You of all people should know it!"_

Now even Brynjolf had to remind him. He cursed under his breath and pulled out his axes. Vilkas was retreating the whole time now. He fought bravely and J'Ziir had no doubts about his courage but this wasn't a fight where he should have been pushed in the first place. He walked forward, grabbed Vilkas by the shoulder and gently shoved him aside. Then faced the giant Nord wielding a huge battle ax.

"Sorry to interrupt," he said calmly. "How long will this test take? I need to find someone."

"Till I judge you worthy," the man replied.

"Let's get to it then," he rolled his shoulders and tilted his head from side to side.

From the first swings, he immediately realized he underestimated his foe. This man was big but he was also quick and agile, not like the usual armored tanks he faced. But he was always able to correct himself very quickly, adapt in battle and learn the weaknesses of his enemies. He rolled aside when the ax came down and sunk his ebony dagger into his back. He had time to register that his enemy was bleeding even when he clearly was some kind of immortal being who resided in this Nordic heaven. He didn't know how long they fought; time lost its meaning in this strange place. He was panting, sweaty and once again covered in blood. It was not his own blood and he cursed when he saw how all the wounds he inflicted were healed almost immediately. He took a deep breath and prepared for another wave of attack but the man lowered his ax and nodded.

"You fought well," he said. "I find you worthy."

Vilkas sighed of relief when he heard the words. This man was a beast, a mountain of muscle, indestructible like he was made of stone. He was glad that J'Ziir pushed him aside when he did. He knew his strengths and weaknesses. His left arm was howling with pain and trembling uncontrollably. His ghost fingers cried silently but he was unable to offer any relief to them. He strapped his shield to his back and but when he tried to follow J'Ziir, his legs gave up and fell to his knees. He half expected to be left there, but then he felt J'Ziir strong arms around him. The Khajiit lifted him to his feet, wrapped his hand around his neck and pulled him towards the bridge.

"Why…this sudden…concern?" Vilkas asked and his eyes were filled with suspicion.

"I came here to get Lydia," J'Ziir said. "But I don't intend to come back and fetch another member of my family. So you better keep up, wolf."


	122. Chapter 122

**122.**

They entered the Hall of Valor and were both surprised by the strange, isolated atmosphere of the place. The palace was filled with gold and jewels. The tables were overflowing with food and drink. It was meant to be a paradise but it felt hollow and empty and strange. All these great heroes of the Nords cooped up in this one safe shelter and refused to face the outside world. J'Ziir searched around but didn't see Lydia anywhere. Of course, why would she be here? She was not famous or very intelligent. He doubted that his silly little housecarl would be accepted or welcomed among these people.

J'Ziir hated the place. He despised all of this grandness. It was sickening compared to those empty-eyed wanderers who roamed the land outside. No matter what kind of legend he was, he would gladly choose the dark, gloomy Evergloam, the realm of Nocturnal over this. Not like he really had a choice. He wouldn't get to Sovngarde in the first place since he wasn't a Nord. But he still didn't understand why Nords held this place in such high regard. He dragged Vilkas to a chair and before he had a chance to set him down, he immediately pumped into some heroes of old who spouted their barely understandable gibberish to him. He looked at his brother-in-law who cringed at him. He wasn't sure, did Vilkas enjoy seeing this place either, no matter how much of a Nord he was. He had given up his place here when he chose to take his wolf back.

J'Ziir turned and walked around the hall. The more he saw, the more convinced he was that this place was not for him. He could only guess how bored all these dead heroes were, walking around back and forth, singing some lifeless old tunes and sharing ancient stories that told to each other hundreds, maybe thousands of times. He avoided most of them and when someone approached him, he picked up his speed. Finally, on the other end of the hall, he saw the people he needed. Grandpa's friends, Gormlaith, Hakon and Felldir. He recognized them immediately. As he walked up to them, he only hoped they didn't start with the old stories and the legends of the Nords when there was a dragon that needed killing.

"At long last!" Gormlaith declared when she saw him. "Alduin's doom is now ours to seal. Just speak the word and with high hearts, we'll hasten forth to smite the worm wherever he lurks."

J'Ziir sighed. Apparently, there was no escaping. He thought he might have to hear their whole history but Paarthurnax told him most of it. When the woman in a solid steel armor pulled out her sword, it was a clear sign to him that these people wouldn't waste time on talking. He was ready to sprint out the door and take the beast down, lift the fog and finally locate Lydia.

"Hold comrades!" Felldir raised his hand. "Let us counsel take before battle is blindly joined."

"Counsel?" J'Ziir grunted. "We don't have time to chatter here all day! If you big heroes aren't interested to join me, I'll just go alone!"

He turned, saw Vilkas and noticed he was back on his feet. He pulled out two health potions from his satchel and as he walked by him, he handed them to him. Vilkas eyed him suspiciously.

"Did you poison these?" he asked and sniffed the potions.

"Yes," J'Ziir admitted. "My great plan all along. To drag you here, practically carry you inside this hall, let you have one glimpse of it and then poison you at the end. Very sneaky of me, wasn't it?"

"How kind of you," Vilkas swallowed the content of the bottles. "To let me at least see this place before you sent me to the hunting grounds."

"Feeling better?" J'Ziir asked him when he clutched his chest and coughed.

"Much, much better," Vilkas cleared his throat and J'Ziir pat him on the back.

"Are you ready to head out?" J'Ziir asked after a while. "We need to kill this…thing before…we can find Lydia."

"I know," Vilkas straightened his back. "And I'm ready. Whatever happens. You'll know I'll stand at your back, so the world may never overtake us."

"Don't you start to spout such nonsense as well!" J'Ziir groaned and Vilkas grinned.

"Are you sure we can…do this without any help?" Vilkas finally asked.

"I'm the Dragonborn," J'Ziir rolled his eyes. "Have some faith, brother. This is my destiny, isn't it? I've been prepared for this moment my whole life."

"Are you being sarcastic?" Vilkas punched him in the shoulder.

"Well, someone needs to lighten the mood around here," J'Ziir pointed out. "This dreamlike heaven of yours seems extremely boring. No one has any sense of humor."

"Neither did you when you first arrived in Whiterun," Vilkas reminded him. "And it's not my heaven any longer. I chose a different path."

They were heading back outside when three, heroic warriors ran past them, swords in their hands. Vilkas grinned to J'Ziir and said: "It seems that these heroes of the past are nearly as bored as you. They'd rather fight than pour ale down their throats and relive some old tales of the past."

"I guess the counsel is over," J'Ziir remarked. "Strange. I was sure it would take much longer."

"We better head out," Vilkas marched to the door. "Or we might miss the big battle."

"Let them fight," J'Ziir strolled after him casually. "We might get a chance to look for Lydia while they tussle with the worm."

It turned out to be false hope since they didn't have any choices. They were dragged along with the heroes of the past like puppets in a string. J'Ziir realized that there was no hope of finding Lydia before Alduin was defeated, once and for all. And when that truth finally took hold in his mind, all the jokes and sarcastic remarks vanished. The mist in the valley was thick and heavy. Without even thinking his released his Thu'um and the others followed him. The pain was as bad as before, maybe even worse. It grabbed his intestines and squeezed hard with its icy fists. The mist lifted if only for a moment. Another shout, another wave of agony. And still, it wasn't enough. The fog rolled back and he was barely able to stay on his feet. He was sure this pain would one day kill him, no matter how hard he tried to avoid it. He wondered why give this blessing, this curse to him if he could only use it through such agony. Be immediately crippled afterward. He never got answers and probably never would.

Vilkas placed his hand on his shoulder and when the muscle cramps finally passed, he looked at him. This man, this Nord standing by his side, this Nord who gave up Sovngarde to be with his sister. Who followed him here, a sword and shield in his hands, who was willing to face the World-Eater and who promised to drag him back to Skyrim alive. He felt ridiculous to be thinking such things right now but he realized that this man was now more than just a stranger. He was a true brother, who stood next to him and pushed him back to his feet. Who reached out his hand, his only remaining hand, grabbed him and pulled him back from the brink of insanity.

The last shout was enough to clear the fog. J'Ziir staggered, bend over and was barely able to breathe but Vilkas kept him on his feet, raised his shield and was able to block the first fiery burst that the black dragon aimed at them. It circled around and came back for another attack. J'Ziir shook his head and heard them all yelling at him. Use the shout that would bring it down. His head was spinning, his heart pumping, his lungs deprived of air. He had no idea how he was supposed to use his Thu'um right now. But his body had a will of its own. For years it fought for him when his shattered mind gave up on him. It took over and forced the final Thu'um out of its suffering core. The shout reached the gigantic creature and enveloped it in a gloomy, blue glow.

The ground shook when the beast crashed among them. Vilkas realized that J'Ziir was in no condition to fight so he pushed him further away and shielded him with his body. He prayed the beasts would remain in the ground long enough for him to gather his strength. He looked around and noticed how all of Sovngarde rushed forward, the empty-eyed soldiers, the ghosts of the past, those who deserved finally to have peace after the long, horrific civil war. He glanced at J'Ziir who was finally coming around. They stared at each other for a moment and then at the same time, both men stood on their feet, pulled out their weapons and sprinted forward. Neither of them thought why or what for they were fighting. They had an enemy and the only goal was to bring it down and end this nightmare.

_"You don't have much time! Hurry!"_

Sura's voice reached them from somewhere and they both heard it. J'Ziir was now relentless. Her words reached his ear but his brain told him he couldn't let it disturb him. Fight one battle at the time. Win this one first and then concentrate on the next one. Alduin, the World-Eater, denied its defeat till the very end. They all stood back and watched as the beast thrashed around, snapped its jaws to whoever it saw, roared and shrieked in frustration and in fury. It was the perfection, something no one was able to defeat and yet here stood this weird cat. A slave most of his life. Not even a Nord, shunned and segregated. This was the mighty Dragonborn who defeat the firstborn of Akatosh.

In a blinding flash of light, the World-Eater was torn to pieces. J'Ziir simply turned his eyes away. This was not the reason they came here and he was no interested in the praise that these dead people showered him with. He was quite relieved when the glowing spiral of light didn't emerge and circle him. After a while, the darkness began to fade and the colors returned to this small, tranquil valley. Vilkas joined him as they stood there watching the sudden transformation that took place.

Amidst the streaming light they saw the people – the souls of the heroic Nords – walk towards the Hall of Valor. They were all gathering to the small clearing that led to the bridge. Their eyes were now clear and bright, the wounds were gone and they had a content, peaceful expression on their faces. J'Ziir searched the masses, pushed them aside and began to run forward. Sura's words echoed now in his head, loud and clear.  _Not much time, not much time_ …

Vilkas grabbed his arm and stopped him. He turned, stared at his brother and then saw him pointing somewhere. He raised his eyes and then…there  _she_  was. Walking towards them, among the rest of the people. She smiled, her eyes were bright and emerald green, her dark hair blowing in the wind behind her. She wore her familiar steel armor and the green circlet he once gave her. She was carrying the elven bow he bought for her all those months ago. J'Ziir pushed Vilkas aside and ran through the crowd. He was about to grab her wrist and pull her into his arms but his hands slid right through her and he stumbled forward. The smile on Lydia's face didn't fade.

"My Thane," she said with a soft, melodic voice. "You did it. The World-Eater is dead! Skyrim is safe."

"T…Thane?" J'Ziir repeated. "What…what do you mean?"

"I'm your sword and your shield, my Thane," Lydia almost bowed her head. "It was an honor serving you."

"What's wrong with you?" J'Ziir wanted to shake her till she was back to her old self.

"J'Ziir," Vilkas said. "We only needed to find her. We have to go back now and…"

"No!" J'Ziir pushed him aside. "I want to know what's going on here! It's like…she doesn't remember…me."

"Thank you for everything, my Thane!" Lydia smiled and then she simply walked by him.

J'Ziir couldn't believe his eyes. That accursed woman! Who lured him for months, softened his heart, and persuaded him to adopt Mila. And then had the gall to die on him! Now she pretended like she remembered nothing! Like she wanted to stay behind! Reside in this incredibly boring heaven of hers! No! That would not do! He refused to accept it! He turned on his heels and like a dark, threatening thundercloud, he marched after her.

" _No! Stop! You have to come back before it's too late!"_


	123. Chapter 123

**123.**

Sura stood on top of the world and watched in awe. The Aurora's were brighter than ever before and so close she felt like she could touch them. The stars were dazzling and huge and the air was cold and chilly. And all around him dozens and dozens of dragons, spreading their wings and shouting up to the heavens.  _Alduin mahlaan! Alduin mahlaan!_ Over and over again and it chilled her down to the bone.

She ran to the sarcophagus where Lydia still laid and placed the two pieces of the Eye on top of giant bear pelt that was covering her. She pulled it open so her head and face were revealed. The Eye pulsated like a beating heart, shooting beams of blue, blinding light with every throb. She clasped her hands together, closed her eyes and for the hundredth time she recited the spell in her mind. It was ridiculously simple but she was afraid she would forget it the moment she needed it.

She couldn't stay in her place so she walked back and forth, back and forth, over and over again. She glanced at the Eye and realized it wouldn't last much longer. But she couldn't begin until J'Ziir and Vilkas were back. She bit her nail anxiously and listened to that echoing chant all around her. She had never been this nervous before and the delay drove her mad. Of course, she should have anticipated this. Sending J'Ziir to Sovngarde after Lydia when he just lost her couple of days ago. The only thing she was grateful for was that Vilkas was with him. Oddly enough she wasn't worried for his safety.

A blinding flash of light scared her, send her tumbling backward into the snow and she had to cover her mouth with her hands. She was barely able to see what happened but suddenly there they were, right in front of her. Apparently strangling each other to death. J'Ziir was shouting something, he was angry and furious and Vilkas was holding him in place, his arm around his neck. They noticed her and when they realized what happened, Vilkas's released his grip and J'Ziir glared at him. She paid very little attention to them. They were back, that's what mattered. She hurried to the sarcophagus and she was trembling all over when she took the two halves in her palms. She brought her hands together, closed her eyes and recited the familiar spell that united the Eye.

When the blue, eerie glow surrounded her, J'Ziir and Vilkas retreated. Neither of them liked magic and since there was no guarantee this would work, they were both extremely suspicious and wary. Sura remained in her place and opened her palm. The Eye sparkled in her hand. It was too bright, like looking straight into the sun and she had to avert her eyes. She laid the now intact jewel gently on Lydia's chest. This time she kept her eyes open. She wanted to see everything, not miss a single beat. She spread her arms and took a deep breath. She began to recite the spell, which she had repeated hundreds of time times in her head before this moment. The wind carried her words and amplified them. The Eye shook like it suddenly held too much power. It was surrounded by a bright ball of light and it hovered in the air, right before her eyes. She watched it, couldn't tear her eyes away, but she kept going until to the very last word. She was out of breath and very thirsty but not tired at all. She hardly used any of her own powers; the Eye was the center of this weird exchange. She lowered her hands and took a step back. She wasn't sure what would happen, was she supposed to do something more. But she trusted her father, he guided her to this moment and would guide her for the rest of the way.

She thought she saw something… _someone_ , on the other side of the tomb. She blinked but the shape didn't disappear. It became more distinct and she recognized it. It was Namada, looking at them and smiling. Sura flinched and backed away. Vilkas stood behind her and she gripped his arm. On the other side of the tomb, she saw her father, Jo'Azirr. They were silent figures of the past. Ghosts from another era. Figures from their childhood when there was no pain or sorrow, just happiness, and joy. Sura's eyes welled up with tears and she realized they would lose them forever and this time it was for good. The Eye was silent, hovering between them. Namada reached out her hand and Azirr looked at her with longing, yearning eyes. He grazed her fingers, slowly touched them like he never wanted to let go. But both of them knew this was the end for them. Their little hiding place in that small place between the worlds would be gone. Jo'Azirr looked at his children and felt such pride when he watched them. He knew J'Ziir still lacked answers and if he could, here in his final moments, give him some kind of guidance, he would at least give it a try.

_"The Argonian. You're hurting because he only gave you a small piece of his own soul. It just a fragment, you need the rest. Find him. He is waiting for you, knows you are coming.. But…be careful…the s…mp…dange….pl…e!"_

He realized his words were fading, dying out just like the rest of him. The Eye gathered their life power. Jo'Azirr looked at Namada, who was almost gone by now, pulled into the dark, gloomy grounds of Evergloam. He could still clearly see her eyes. Sometimes so cold and cruel. But when she looked at him and their children, they were filled with warmth and love. He was sorry that he dragged her into this, her life might have been happier without him.

_("I love you.")_

It was Namada's voice and he closed his eyes. That was enough. It was time to let go.

The Eye drew them both in, separated them forever, used their remaining lives and then it searched the person who the rest of its powers belonged to. She was still within its reach. It grabbed Lydia's soul violently and shook her around. In those few, fleeting seconds Lydia relived everything, from the day she met J'Ziir to the day when she died in his arms. The Eye burst with the power, shattered into pieces and a large ball of light surrounded Lydia's motionless body. It grew and grew and the blast sent them all flying backward. J'Ziir smacked his head in the hard, icy surface of the mountain and Sura and Vilkas almost slid off the steep edge. In the last possible moment, he grabbed a sharp stone, pulled himself up and then helped his wife who was dangling below him, holding on to a small, sharp ledge. The echo of the boom traveled down the mountain. Sura staggered back to her feet and Vilkas pulled her to a tight embrace.


	124. Chapter 124

**124.**

Mila sprinted through Jorrvaskr, her giggle echoed through the hall and with a loud bang she slammed the doors to the downstairs living quarters open. She kept running until she was at the end of the hallway and then without even knocking she burst into Sura's study. The smile was plastered to her face and she couldn't stop jumping up and down.

"When are they coming back?" she bounced in front of Sura who sat at her desk. "When, when, when?"

"I'm sure they'll be home in a couple of days," Sura smiled to her. "It takes some time to travel to Riften and back."

"Why couldn't I go with them?" Mila moaned theatrically. "I hate waiting."

"Aren't you having fun?" Sura asked. "I thought you enjoyed training with Farkas."

"He is way too kind!" Mila jumped on a chair next to her. "He doesn't even try to attack me properly. How am I supposed to learn anything like that?"

"Patience," Sura glanced at her.

"Ugh!" Mila rolled her eyes. "Can't we go to Breezehome and decorate the place for them? You know…candles and such."

"And burn the whole place down before they get home?" Sura suggested.

"You're no fun," Mila declared but she couldn't pout for too long. "Can I go with Farkas to see what the caravans are selling? I think Akhari and the others came this morning."

"Well, if he has time," Sura nodded. "But don't disturb him too much…"

"I won't!" Mila yelled, jumped off the chair and was out of the door in seconds.

Sura closed her books and watched the girl as she ran to the other end of the hallway and was almost knocked down by Vilkas who came through the doors right when she was heading up. He asked her was she hurt, but she just shook her head, kissed him on the cheek and was off before he could say more. Vilkas smiled, rubbed his cheek and after a while, joined her in the study. He leaned down, kissed her and began to remove his armor. Sura watched him and noticed how effortlessly he used his both hands. He seemed to forget that he was missing his fingers. How adaptable we are, Sura though. No matter what we go through, we always find a way to go on. Vilkas noticed her watching and smiled back.

"See something you like?" he asked and his eyes were sparkling.

"Plenty," Sura licked her lips, stood up and locked the door.

He chuckled when she walked up to him, wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. He pulled her closer, buried his face into her soft hair and caressed her back. She was happy just being close to him like this. She was happy being anywhere near him, they didn't even need to touch each other, just his presence was enough. He picked her into his arms and carried her to their bedroom. The soft mattress welcomed them and the sheets and the pillows embraced them. Sura was sure she would never get tired of him, never stopped loving him and wanting him. Much later, when they lay together under the warm blankets, Sura thought about all the tears, sorrow and grief they experienced during the last months. It was almost too unbelievable that they were all here, together and alive. She remembered her parents and how they gave up everything for their children. She sincerely hoped that J'Ziir would finally find some peace in his life, with Mila and Lydia by his side.

"Do you think…we'd make good parents?" Vilkas suddenly asked and she lifted her face.

"You want to have a child?" Sura raised her eyes and leaned her chin against her hand.

"Uhm…well…not right away," Vilkas studied her face. "Do you?"

"Maybe," she replied. "But I'm not sure can we. I mean…you're a Nord and I'm a Khajiit. How would that work exactly?"

"Maybe it's best if we practice parenting with Mila first", Vilkas muttered.

"As if J'Ziir and Lydia knew nothing about children when she came into their lives," Sura chuckled. "He still doesn't."

"So what? You think we should just go for it?" Vilkas looked at her. "Let it happen if it happens?"

"Why not?" Sura smiled and caressed his chest. "Want to give it a try?"

"Now?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Yes, now!" she straddled him. "We're already naked. And it seems someone down there is quite eager to try."

"Alright," Vilkas laughed, propped himself up, embraced her and kissed her. "Just remember, this was your idea."

"You started it," Sura replied and answered to his kiss. "But I always have the best ideas."

* * *

The sun was setting and the small valley was rapidly losing light. J'Ziir sat next to the small fire and tossed a couple of dry logs into the flames. The fire crackled but then the flames began to consume the wood. He looked over the large lake and saw the flickering lights of Riften on the other side. The wind smelled like raw fish and salt. Riften's new Jarl wasted no time and the trade with Cyrodiil was well underway. J'Ziir knew that Brynjolf was the man who kept the gears rolling but Aura knew surprisingly much and she had curious and impressive contacts.

J'Ziir sighed and looked at his hand. Wearing a ring, an actual wedding ring felt awkward and strange. He touched it and rolled it in his finger, took it off and put it back. It was disturbing and he couldn't understand why he had to keep it. He was married to Lydia regardless of some cheap jewel. He pulled it off and was about to tuck in inside his knapsack when Lydia's clear, almost angry voice drifted to him.

"Don't. You. Dare!"

He looked back and saw her standing in front of their tent, her hands on her hips and her head tilted to her left. He cleared his throat, stood up and slipped the ring back to his finger. Immediately it began to bother him. He felt like his finger was suffocating like it was bound and shackled. He ignored Lydia, took the ring off and placed it neatly inside his knapsack.

"I'm sorry," J'Ziir turned to her. "I just can't wear it!"

"Are you ashamed you married me?" Lydia's eyes narrowed. "Is that why you can't wear it? This was your idea!"

"I always have the best ideas," J'Ziir said calmly. "And no, that's not why. I don't regret it but I can't…have something...attached to my hands. I feel like I'm in chains or something."

"Oh," Lydia said. "You should have told me before."

"How?" J'Ziir asked. "I'm not used to…telling things…to others."

"You could have said: Lydia, my love, my eternal flame, my one, and only goddess, I'm terribly sorry but I can't wear this wedding band that will tie us together for the rest of our mortal lives and even beyond that…"

"Goddess?" J'Ziir chuckled, not really believing his ears. "My one…and only…eternal flame?"

"Well, aren't I?" Lydia poked his chest. "You followed me into Sovngarde. What's a girl supposed to think after that?"

"Hey, I went there to save Skyrim for them World-Eater, that's all!" J'Ziir shrugged.

"Sure you did," Lydia pinched him in the cheek. "Like I didn't know you inside out by now,  _My Thane_."

"Alright, stop calling me that," J'Ziir frowned. "I hate it when you do it."

"What are you going to do about it then?" Lydia teased.

"I'm not your Thane anymore," J'Ziir yanked her closer. "I'm your…"

He grew silent. It was incredibly difficult to admit what he had just done. He married this woman and loved her almost too violently. His passion was dangerous and it burned too brightly. And still, the words didn't come out. He couldn't say them, not even when they stood here together, alone. This was Lydia, his heart tried to tell him. Yes, Lydia, his brain repeated. How many times did she aim at you when you were killing that troll up in High Hrothgar? Can you really trust her?

"I love you," Lydia whispered to him. "Does that make it little easier?"

"You better not…leave me again," J'Ziir murmured. "Or I'll swear…"

"I love you," Lydia repeated, leaned closer and kissed him. "Now, can you say it back to me or do I have to keep hearing your vague threats throughout the night? That's not very romantic, you know."

"Do you remember when we first came to Riften?" J'Ziir suddenly asked.

"Well…yes," Lydia nodded.

"And then I left you here with Raji and Brynjolf," J'Ziir continued. "I actually returned to Riften a little earlier than I originally planned. I visited the camp one night…there was no one else but you…sleeping alone."

Lydia's eyes widened. She remembered that night. The next morning she told Brynjolf that she had seen a weird dream where J'Ziir sat next to her and simply watched her. With a loving, gentle look in his eyes. Brynjolf told her that it must have been a dream, J'Ziir could never love anyone. And she agreed with him but kept the image somewhere inside her heart.

"You remember?" J'Ziir asked.

"I do," Lydia smiled. "I told myself it was just a silly dream…"

"I loved you already then," J'Ziir cupped her face in his hands and looked her dead in the eyes. He forced the words out of his mouth. "From that night onward you were my eternal flame and my one and only goddess. My relentless Frostbite Queen."


	125. Chapter 125

**125.**

Whiterun was filled with laughter, warmth, and celebration. The Dragonsreach was packed with people, with music and good food. The rubble was cleared, the rebuilding of the destroyed houses was underway and the city was recovering. The skeleton of the dead dragon was now used as decoration and there was two dragon's skull hanging in the walls of the Dragonsreach.

Sura walked among the people, stopped every now and then to exchange a word or two and then continued on. She barely remembered a time when she was afraid to meet everyone. She couldn't even believe she once hid behind the large wooden pillars when someone came to the reach. It was like another life, another reality, a prolonged dream which she finally woke up from. She saw Mila on the other side of the hall. The girl waved to her and she waved back.

She stepped inside the small study of the court wizard. The place was empty now, like once before. Back then she was eager to find a way to end her nightmares. To end her own life. It was a desperate act and she recognized that part of herself, accepted the decision she made back then. She never imagined it would lead her down a path where she would find all the answers to her endless questions. Farengar spotted her, joined her in the study and together they thought back to those times when a simple fire spell was all she could manage and clairvoyance was the only thing he dared to teach to her. She opened the door to the small side room and sighed. This tiny little place had been her home for so long. She slept here, studied here and dreamed of her unattainable love. And during the nights, when the reach was quiet, she usually wandered its endless hallways and tried her best to avoid her nightmares. She brought her hand to her neck but the Eye was gone and she sighed again. The necklace had been a part of her life for such a long time, it shielded her and kept her alive. But now she was strong enough to live without it, strong enough to stand on her own. But she still missed it, missed her parents. Maybe one day she would meet them again.

She noticed Lydia near the huge fireplace. She was wearing a beautiful blue gown and she practically radiated happiness. Lydia waved to her and joined her, she pulled her into a warm embrace.

"What's this for?" Sura laughed but hugged her back.

"For everything," Lydia smiled. "If it wasn't for you, I would still wander around in Sovngarde like a lost soul without any memories or feelings."

"Thank my father," Sura replied. "It was his spell and his jewel."

"But he wasn't here," Lydia said. "You were."

"I'm just glad you're back," Sura took her hands into her own. "And…married? I can't believe you managed to charm J'Ziir into marrying you!"

"It was his idea," Lydia pointed out. "He dragged me to Riften, straight into the Temple of Mara and told poor Maramal to wed us immediately. When he said we needed at least two witnesses, Brynjolf and Aura were forced to attend. It wasn't very romantic, let me tell you."

"I don't think he forced you to say yes," Sura giggled.

"No," Lydia admitted. "But he did threaten to throw me out if I refused him."

"Oh dear," Sura shook her head. "What a hard, tough decision to make. To marry the unbearable Dragonborn or live in the streets of Whiterun for the rest of your days. How long did it take for you to decide?"

"Couple of seconds," Lydia leaned closer. "But I enjoyed watching him squirm."

They talked and laughed for a while longer and then Mila pulled Lydia somewhere among the people. She happily followed her and Sura spotted Jarl Balgruuf near the tables. She exchanged a few words with him, took a glass of wine from and then she headed upstairs. She didn't really care for the festivities that much but of course, everyone was entitled to celebrate. The civil war was over and so was the dragon threat. The World-Eater was defeated, hopefully for good.

She opened the large doors that led to the great porch. She wanted to get some fresh air and maybe admire the Aurora's that always looked spectacular when they blazed above the plains. The porch was a perfect place to admire them. She noticed she wasn't the only one who needed some peace and quiet. J'Ziir stood there, leaning against the balcony. He heard her footsteps, turned and faced her. She had changed so much from that first time when he saw her. The shy, timid girl was gone and it was replaced by this beautiful, strong woman. He didn't mind her company but the people of Whiterun still managed to annoy him from time to time.

"Congratulations," Sura said. "You could have invited us to the wedding."

"It was…unplanned," J'Ziir replied.

"That's strange," Sura looked at him. "I thought your life was very well planned and organized when you arrived in Whiterun all those months ago."

"You and me both," J'Ziir sighed. "I was so sure where to go and what to do."

"What changed?" Sura asked.

"You changed!" J'Ziir stared at her. "You came back from the dead."

"You have two people now who have returned from the dead," Sura sipped her wine. "All thanks to our father. Don't you think it's time to forgive him too?"

J'Ziir didn't answer. They owed a lot to their father. And he always paid his debts. He remembered the words Azirr told him just before he vanished into nothingness. The Argonian. Always the Argonian. It seemed he held the key and had something to do with this, something to do with the dragons and the reason why this was pushed upon him in the first place.

"Are you going somewhere again?" Sura nudged him gently.

"At some point, yes," J'Ziir nodded. "I have to find out what he meant. And to be honest…it's nice to get away every now and then. Live under the open sky. But…coming back feels…weird."

"Good weird or bad weird?" Sura raised her eyebrows.

"Good," J'Ziir smiled. "It feels good."

Sura chuckled. She heard the doors open behind them. Mila's laughter echoed and bounced from the stone walls. She ran up to them, wrapped her hands around J'Ziir waist and looked up at him. He smiled at her and caressed her hair. Lydia and Vilkas joined them moments later. Vilkas wrapped his arms around Sura's shoulder and kissed her forehead. Lydia leaned against the balcony, her fingers found J'Ziir's hand and they locked together with his. J'Ziir looked at her and let out a content sigh.

"Welcome home, J'Ziir," Sura said. "Welcome home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been my "baby" for the past 5-6 years. I've written it, re-written it, edited and then edited some more. I tried to create characters that were likable, realistic as much as fantasy characters can be but also vulnerable. I know, J'Ziir basically was this cliche "angry guy who suffers from a terrible past and doesn't know how to love", but I hope some of you grew to like him. I know I did :D. And I hope he didn't come across as too terrible, I know he hurled insults at Lydia, but I wanted to make her rise to his level and be able to take it and then give something in return. Also, I didn't want to make Sura this indecisive damsel in distress. I wanted her to be the hero more than J'Ziir, save her loved ones, all by herself if nothing else worked. She never lost her faith after that one time. That kind of meant that Vilkas was the most "underdeveloped" of these four, but I hoped he might grow as a character when I basically twisted the whole Companions quest line into a different form. Creative freedom, on my part. :)
> 
> My characters faced hard choices, hard decisions but they always came back, stronger than before. I realize that I could have cut this story in half and uploaded it in two parts, but I wanted to keep it intact, even though I grew into a monstrous form. 
> 
> Last but not least, I want to thank all of you who read my story, commented good or bad, liked it, followed and just simply enjoyed it. :D


End file.
